


The Heroes’ Game

by Catthhay



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Absolute Mess Marinette, Adrien Alix and Chloe Bourgeois, Alix is still cool, BAMF Damian Wayne, Bamf marinette, Chloè redemption, Daminette, Daminette has consumed me, F/M, I like Alix okay?, Ice King Damian, Kagami and Luka are still cool, MariBat, Minor Adrien/Kagami, Plenty Of Lila and Alya salt tho, Slow Burn, So this is pretty bad but oh well, Soulmate AU, The ACB Of friendship, They work so well though, Well - Freeform, but everyone else sucks, but they don’t show up much, class salt, i am out of practice tagging, i fell down the rabbit hole, more like a simmer, not anti-Adrien, slow burn for a soulmate story anyway, so not super slow, you know Damian falls for her fighting first and looks second
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:14:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 74,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catthhay/pseuds/Catthhay
Summary: Soulmate AUIn a world where soulmates are real but the form that a soulbond can take is as numerous as the stars in the sky, Marinette has no physical mark on her body that might be a soul bond. No such mark has ever appeared. And after witnessing the only other person in her class without a visible soul mark— her long time crush Adrien Agreste— form a romantic soul bond right in front of her eyes...Well. She would be a lot worse off if she hadn’t unexpectedly formed her own just a few short months later. Too bad the Universe seems to be treating this whole thing, both their secret identities and their bond, as nothing but one big game.**edit: this story now has a tumblr at soulmate-game.tumblr.com**
Relationships: Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug/Damian Wayne
Comments: 749
Kudos: 3568





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t fucking judge me. I see you’re judgy judgerton looks. 
> 
> This is a Maribat/Daminette soulmate fic. Like or or not, I don’t fucking care. I got sucked down the rabbit hole. 
> 
> Characters are aged up as follows (don’t compare to canon pls)  
> Marinette: 16  
> Damian: 16  
> Tim: 21  
> Jason: 23  
> Dick: 27  
> Bruce: 40

Soulmates. That gooey, gushy, over-sentimentalized, overly relied-upon concept that was unfortunately (or fortunately, for romantics) very real. But unlike stories or movies, it was not uniform. There was not one universal soulmark or set type of soul bond. There were romantic soulmates, platonic soulmates, even familial soulmates (a subdivision of the above platonic, more specific yet stronger due to the distinction). But not only were the types of soul bonds broken into three separate categories, but the variety of types of soul _marks_ that a pair (or triad, in some rare cases) could end up with was still being discovered. Already, there were almost a hundred different catalogued forms that a soul bond could come in. All of them studied and confirmed by both science and magic as being valid. Even the timing that a soul bond chose to reveal itself could vary individual to individual. 

Which led to the current dilemma. 

A certain half-Asian girl with her blue-black hair up in pigtails was forced to watch as a blond boy and Japanese girl gaped at one another. As everyone present watched, bright spiraling designs that seemed to be made of light itself etched themselves on one arm of both teens, starting from where their hands gripped one another. The blond had tripped down the stairs, only for his hand to be caught by the smaller Asian girl and bright light to erupt from their palms. 

The half-Asian, half-French girl at the bottom of the stairs could only observe in mute dismay as a swirling foil of pulsing maroon light sank itself into the right arm of Adrian Agreste, bright neon green markings adding detail to the stylized weapon. A matching symbol, orientation flipped and colors inverted, etched itself in glowing light on the right arm of Kagami Tsurugi. 

They were soulmates. 

The only person in Marinette’s class other than herself without a visible soul mark or completed bond (until now), the only person Marinette had believed herself capable of being with, had a soul mate. And by the way they stared into each other’s eyes even as Adrien continued to dangle perilously over the concrete steps, it wasn’t platonic. 

Marinette felt cold, as if someone had stuffed a funnel down her throat just to dump ice directly into her stomach. 

When Chat Noir immediately stopped hitting on Ladybug only to apologize in private and reveal he had met his soulmate, Marinette connected the dots. The magic of the Miraculous helped protect the identities of the wielders, but could not hold up against significant hard proof. That, and Marinette was getting more and more immune to the lesser Miraculous magic as she trained to become the next Guardian. 

On the rooftops, Chat was still her partner. Despite showing up less often during Akuma attacks or nightly patrols due to having dates, he was still reliable whenever he showed up. But as Adrien Agreste, he and Marinette had never been further apart. 

—*—*—*—*—*

“Still sulking?” The all-too-familiar voice of Chloe Bourgeois cut through Marinette’s intrusive thoughts, the usually haughty tone surprisingly gentle. After quite a bit of time, introspection, and character development, Chloe had become a good friend of Marinette’s. Still incredibly hard to tolerate at times, but dependable. 

The black haired girl just groaned, dropping her face into her hands. “He was my first real crush, Chloe,” the girl complained, clearly still hurt. “I loved him. Or I thought I did, anyway. You can’t expect me to heal from it all that quickly.” 

“Of course not,” The blond heiress agreed easily, shrugging even as she put a forkful of food in her mouth. Maybe trying to have girl talk with Marinette on the fourth floor of a five-star hotel wasn’t the best idea, her short friend being incredibly uncomfortable in the atmosphere despite her personally made clothing being more than acceptable for the environment. “But it’s been two months, Mari. It’s time to straighten your spine, and get out there _looking_ again! You don’t need Adrien, just like you don’t need Alya or sausage-hair or any of the idiots that flock with them in our class,” the girl reasoned. “Adri-kins is sweet, but he has the entirely wrong approach to Lila, you know. Convincing you to stay quiet was the worst advice he could have given. Staying quiet would never have allowed _me_ to change or see that what I was doing was wrong,” Chloe pointed out. “Why would it work for her?” 

“Adrien is just being careful,” Marinette defended weakly, pushing her salad around her plate disinterestedly. Knowing he was Chat just made her sympathize with his motives even more. He didn’t know Ladybug was in his class to back him up instantly, after all. But still, Marinette knew Chloe was right. Adrien might have good intentions, but his execution of them left a lot to be desired. “He doesn’t want another Akuma.” 

“We get Akumas every week, he should just suck it up. We get even more Akumas from her lies than we would if everyone knew what she was doing,” the blond girl continued easily, not giving in to her friend’s weak excuses. “Besides, telling you to be quiet just puts _you_ at the most risk of Akumatization. He should know that. It’s a miracle it hasn’t happened to you yet,” Chloe’s perfect babydoll-pink lips thinned as she stabbed a piece of chicken on her plate. “Lucky for _all_ of us, not that he knows that.” 

Marinette just sighed in agreement. “Can we just, you know, stop talking about this?” The meeker of the two asked gently, finally managing a mouthful of greens. “This is supposed to be our girl time. Ever since you transferred schools, we’ve had less and less time to just hang out.” 

Chloe frowned, but gave in with a nod. “Sure, sure. Oh! Daddy told me about how you won that Wayne Enterprises competition for your class!” Chloé suddenly perked up, leaning over the table in newfound enthusiasm, her suddenly exclamation making the rich crowd around them side-eye the two teenage girls. Marinette flailed her arms in an attempt to get her friend to calm down and be quiet, an attempt that she should have known would be futile. All Chloe did was lean slightly back towards her own chair. “Well?! Are you excited to be going to Gotham?” 

“Of course I am,” Marinette finally stopped trying to calm down her excitable friend. “Being able to travel to America, study the fashion of Gotham City, be inspired by the foreign landscape—“ Marinette sighed dreamily, not unlike the way she used to sigh over Adrien. Her hands even cradled her cheeks as she lost herself momentarily to her daydreams. Her hands dropped as the illusion was ruined by the memory that— “The whole class is going though, so it’s going to be an uphill battle to avoid Liar Rossi spoiling the whole trip.” 

“Nope, you said you didn’t want to talk about her. This conversation will be sausage-hair free until dinner is over, at the least,” Chloe chided lightly. “I heard Bruce Wayne himself is inviting your class to a charity gala at the end of the trip, and that _you_ will be presenting a speech as an honored guest and owner of the winning submission!” Chloé gasped suddenly, dropping her fork onto her plate with a cacophonous clatter. “Oh. Em. Gee. You’re designing your own dress, aren’t you? Who am I kidding, of course you are!” Chloé squealed in delight. “MDC, strutting her skills overseas, it’s glorious!” 

“Shh, Chloe!” Marinette went right back to flailing her arms uselessly. “There’s a reason I haven’t publicly come out as MDC yet! Someone will hear you!” The short blue-eyed girl was looking around the room frantically. The waiters wouldn’t dare kick out the mayor’s daughter, but other patrons were already leaving early or requesting a different floor in order to escape the infamous Chloe Bourgeois Chaos. On the bright side, none of them seemed to be paying any attention to what the young rich girl had actually said. 

“Oooh,” Chloe leaned over the table again with a wide, mischievous grin. “What if you finally meet your soulmate?” Her smile widened impossibly. “Of course you’d have an American soulmate. Someone blunt, maybe, to combat your constant worrying. He’d have to always tell you upfront exactly how he feels or else you’d constantly be worried about misinterpreting them,” the girl mused, completely ignoring Marinette’s groaning and moaning about how embarrassing she was being. “And everyone knows that nobody does Blunt quite as well as Americans. Ooh, I wonder what your mark is gonna be!” 

“Hopefully something invisible,” Marinette finally spoke up, her remark a mere grumble as her nose scrunched up. “It would kind of ruin the whole secret identity thing if it was noticeable, right? Do soul bonds even care about secret identities? Oh no,” Marinette blanched, spiraling in true Marinette Dupain-Cheng fashion. “What if it’s on my face? The magic can’t hide something that identifiable! Everyone will know who I am, and then Hawk Moth will attack my family and isolate me and attack me out of costume or akumatize me, and then he’ll make his wish, and then world war three will _actually happen_ , and—“ The ramble was suddenly stopped by perfectly manicured hands slapping over Marinette’s mouth, one blond eyebrow raised at her as Chloe kept the word vomit from continuing stubbornly. 

“No. Stop catastrophizing, the worst-case scenario doesn’t always happen, girl. La—“ Chloe glances around the suddenly half-empty room and lowered her voice. “ _You know who_ is such a deep part of you that there’s no way your soul bond will ignore that. I seriously doubt it will cause your identity to come out.” 

Marinette’s shoulders slumped in relief. She waited until Chloe removed her hands and sat back down before saying softly; “I just wish you could come with me. Then it would be bearable.” 

Chloé gave one of her oh-so-rare soft smiles to the smaller girl, nodding. “I know. I wish I could go too, but I can’t miss a whole month of school. But you’ll have Alix with you, which is better than nothing. And besides, everyone in Paris knows I’m Queen Bee,” Chloe flipped her hair haughtily, making Marinette grin. “I wouldn’t want to intimidate Gotham’s heroes.” 

“In other words,” Marinette started slyly, a teasing grin overtaking her lips as she avoided Chloe’s gaze playfully. “You don’t want to risk attracting the attention of Gotham’s rogues because you couldn’t handle them, right?” 

Chloe spluttered in denial, tossing her napkin at Marinette in false anger. “How dare you! The Queen Bee can handle any villain!” Chloe became serious again. “Be careful while you’re over there, yeah? Me, Ryuuko, and Viperion can keep Paris safe while you’re gone but you will only have Alix.” 

_And Chat,_ Marinette thought to herself, _but Chloe doesn’t need to know that._

“It’s better if Ladybug doesn’t appear in Gotham at all,” Marinette agreed, “So I’ll be as careful as possible. The less evidence anyone has to connect me and Ladybug, the better.” 

Chloe nodded. “Of course. Now, did you _see_ Clara’s last music video?” The blond heiress/superhero was turned into a common teenager again as she squealed in delight. “It. Was. Fabulous. And the dress you made her for it? I want one.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Of course this would happen. Marinette stood in the lobby of the hotel where her and her class were staying while in Gotham, with no classmates or teachers in sight and the bus she was supposed to board already gone. _At least I’m fluent in English, or else I’d be screwed,_ she thought to herself. Resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to catch up to the bus, Marinette instead went over to the hotel information desk and asked for directions to the Gotham Museum of History, where her class had left to visit. 

At least she had money for a cab. 

A cab that apparently decided to kick her out two blocks from her destination in favor of picking up a couple that were positively _dripping_ in expensive jewelry. Marinette dusted herself off, adjusting her purse on her shoulder with a frown. She couldn’t blame him for looking after his own finances, but he didn’t have to chase after tips _that_ blatantly. The girl didn’t even bother arguing with the man, simply handing over the cash she owed him before turning in what she thought was the right direction, if she was reading the map on her phone correctly. It was already dark out, not surprising considering how their plane had arrived in the afternoon and they only got a few hours to rest before visiting the museum as their first activity of the trip. 

Quickly memorizing what she thought was the right route, Marinette tucked her phone back into her purse and smiled at Tikki, who hid inside it. “Alright,” Marinette whispered to her Kwami. “I hope I haven’t missed too much!” 

Quickly closing her bag, the girl started off towards her destination. 

And promptly got lost. 

“I thought I saw it this way…” she groaned to herself when she realized she didn’t recognize anything around her, and it had only gotten darker in the past half hour she had been walking. _At least being Ladybug keeps me in shape._

Marinette straightened her shoulders, resigning herself to retracing her steps for the twentieth time. She turned on her heel, walking forward as her bright blue eyes scanned her surroundings for anything that might lead her to the museum. 

Until she realized the street was oddly empty, and a soft crunch of glass sounded from behind her. Marinette had prepared for this, at least. _I’m being followed._ Careful to remain calm and keep on walking as if nothing was wrong, Marinette strained her ears and eyes. She managed to catch a glimpse of her tail in a window— tall, broad shouldered, biceps like hams. The girl frowned. She could easily outmaneuver someone twice her size, but it would draw a lot of attention. 

Firmly in Ladybug Mode, Marinette slowed down just enough to let the guy come a bit closer, before she veered sharply into an alley. Risky? Yeah, but it would be much less likely to make a spectacle of herself when she handed the guy his ass. 

Sure enough, it didn’t take long for the guy to attempt to grab her. As soon as she felt his hand reaching for her though, Marinette easily clamped onto his wrist and used her momentum to hurl the assailant over her shoulder. The large body hit the gravel roughly on his back, letting out a moan that was half pain and half anger. Marinette backed up just enough to stay out of the man’s immediate range, her eyes continuing to dart around. 

He hadn’t been alone. 

_His boots are good quality, so are his cargo pants. No gun, but several knives on his belt. Professional, not out to kill. Capture?_ As soon as Marinette saw two other guys dressed identically to the man now pulling himself back up to a standing position come out to surround her in the alley, she put it all together. Each newcomer had a tranq gun trained on her. _Traffickers._

Ever the improviser, Marinette quickly rolled out of the way of the first few darts shot at her and grabbed a misshapen hunk of wood from the ground to block the next two projectiles like a warped shield. Lunging to her feet, she whipped the chunk of wood at one man with deadly precision, the plank hitting him square across the forehead hard and fast enough to knock him out. 

_One down._ The guy she had initially thrown over her shoulder took advantage of her distraction to wrap his large arms around her, trapping her own against her torso. Not one to be trapped for long, Marinette jumped up and flipped herself upside down so that her legs wrapped around the guy’s neck, and twisted so that her body weight unbalanced him. Combined with his sudden lack of oxygen and field of view, the guy stumbled just enough for Marinette to get one arm free and slam her elbow into his most sensitive area. The guy released her with a howl, and Marinette twisted into a three-point landing. She paused only long enough to slam the side of her arm into a pressure point on howling man’s neck that knocked him out before springing up to face the—

Marinette paused. The last attacker was already tied up, a much different muscular form holding the cursing man a few inches above the ground. 

_Batman._

“You know, you shouldn’t walk around Gotham at night,” a casual voice sounded from behind her, making Marinette swing around to face Nightwing. The blue vigilante was leaned against the wall, with the first guy Marinette had knocked out already tied up at his feet. “But that was pretty good fighting. You made a few unnecessary moves, but overall not half bad.” 

A third figure dropped down from a nearby roof, making Marinette whip her head to the side for a third time. _Ugh, I’ll get whiplash at this rate. How are they able to move so noiselessly?_ The last figure was Robin, who made short work of tying up the last guy before standing and staring straight at Marinette. He crossed his arms, and the French girl suddenly had the feeling she was about to be scolded. 

“What were you thinking, leading them into an alley? Are you an idiot?” Were the first words Robin said, instantly making Marinette puff her cheeks out in indignation. How dare he?! 

“Robin,” Batman interrupted whatever retort Marinette had been about to make. “Ducking into the alley made it less likely that anyone else would be caught in the fight. It was not necessarily bad a move. That being said,” the most experienced hero in the alley turned to the girl in pigtails. Marinette gulped. It was really intimidating, having Batman’s state focused solely on her. She forced herself to stand as straight as possible. “It was still incredibly reckless. You had no idea how many people were following you, or what their skill level was. I highly suggest you act with much more caution next time. Or better yet, don’t travel Gotham alone even during the day.” 

“I’ll be careful,” Marinette agreed, the three heroes instantly picking up on her French accent. “This wasn’t exactly my choice. First, my class left the hotel without me even though I’m the one who applied for the contest that even allowed us to come here in the first place. Then, my cab driver kicks me out a few blocks from where I asked him to take me, and then I got lost. Merde!” Marinette threw her hands up. “It’s not my fault I have bad luck. And _you,”_ she turned and pointed to Robin, about to give him her two cents about his critique of her. That is, until when fingertip actually made contact with his chest and both teens visibly jumped. 

It was like static the moment they made contact, but nothing visual happened. Marinette was about to shrug it off as nothing when— 

Her vision split in half, like a TV screen when someone was playing a two-player game. Suddenly she could see her normal perspective, with Batman to her left, Nightwing to her right, and her finger straight ahead pushing into Robin’s chest, but she could also see a second perspective. 

A perspective where she stared straight at _herself._

She watched as her own blue eyes widened in disbelief. She watched as she stumbled back a few shocked steps, and as Robin did the same in front of her. 

“ _Mon dieu_ ,” Marinette cursed breathily, unable to move her eyes from Robin or acknowledge the frantic questions being posed to both of them from Batman and Nightwing. The teens just stared at one another. “Of course my soulmate would be a vigilante.” 

“ _Shit,”_ Marinette had no idea which of the three heroes said that, but they all seemed to share the sentiment. Shit, indeed. 

Nightwing shifted and said; “At least all the traffickers are knocked out.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author should really pace themselves here but decides “nah, fuck it, I’ll keep writing till I burn out!”

“There has to be a way to turn this off,” Marinette seemed to be talking mostly to herself. After the bat boys made sure the three traffickers were picked up, they relocated Marinette to the empty rooftop of a building they owned. Not that she knew that, but it was the best way to insure nobody came up to see them. The smaller girl was pacing, despite the disorientation that came with  _ seeing _ herself pace  _ as _ she paced. Robin seemed to feel that same disorientation, rubbing his forehead in what could have been pain but was probably annoyance as well. 

Batman and Nightwing could only watch as words tumbled out of the girl’s mouth faster than they could comprehend all of them. It was such an odd sight; a silent Robin brooding in place and rubbing his temples while the small Asian girl in pigtails rambled and paced. 

They could hardly believe they were soulmates, but if Robin hadn’t denied it yet then it had to be true. 

“At least it isn’t a physical mark,” Batman managed to interject into Marinette’s panic. She looked up at him, instantly cutting off her verbal vomit. “But how about you two explain exactly what your mark  _ is _ so we can understand?” 

“Yeah, don’t leave us hanging,” Nightwing agreed with a smile. Sure, it was incredibly inconvenient and not at all ideal for one of them to meet their soulmate in uniform. But, none of them exactly had a say in that. The best they could do was roll with the punches and Nightwing wasn’t gonna let a little right hook from Fate keep him down for long. 

“It’s annoying,” Robin surprisingly answered first, lowering his hand to cross his arms over his broad chest again. Marinette turned to him, just then realizing that Robin hadn’t looked away from her for longer than a few seconds since their bond had first formed. “Our vision is cut in half, like a two-player game screen. One side is my usual point of view, the other side is the point of view through  _ her _ eyes.” 

Batman and Nightwing tensed, processing. Marinette didn’t notice, considering she had narrowed her focus back onto the concrete of the roof below her and decided to contribute to the explanation. 

“I think that’s exactly what it is,” she agreed, unknowingly making everyone look over at her. “I didn’t notice it before, but— look, Robin. In the bottom left hand corners,” she pointed to something only Robin and herself could see. “It says Player One and Player Two. In red and—oh, those are hearts instead of colons.” 

“So much for hoping this was at least platonic,” Batman groaned, running a hand over his face. He was happy that Robin had a match, sure, but that didn’t exactly make things  _ easy.  _ Nothing to do with superheroes and their soulmates was easy. 

“I think…” Marinette narrowed her eyes as she focused on the red font. The spot after the colon had a flashing cursor. “I think it’s waiting for us to introduce ourselves,” she looked up to her newly found soulmate with expectation. He avoided meeting her eyes, and said nothing. Puffing out her cheeks, Marinette decided not to be put off by his behavior and straightened her spine. Taking several confident steps forward, she held out her hand to him. “Hello, Robin. My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I am from Paris, France. My class and I are here on a month-long field trip thanks to one of us winning the Wayne Enterprises scholastic competition last month.” 

“Wait a second,” Nightwing interjected, eyes narrowed behind his mask. “Are you being humble? Because the guest speaker at the Wayne Gala at the end of the month is the winner of that competition and her name has already been released as Mari—“ 

Cue the frantic arm waving and full face blush. “Ah-Ah-Ah yeah, that’s me. But I don’t like to brag, so I didn’t want to say it! You know, I didn’t want to come off as full of myself or a-anything. It’s really embarrassing having to make a speech,” Marinette’s head dropped at the reminder. “Ohhhh, I’m gonna make a total fool out of myself! I should tell Monsieur Wayne I’m not comfortable making a speech. Yeah— oh, but how could I possibly just say; ‘sorry, Mister Wayne, But I am a chronic clutz prone to embarrassing myself and think that making a speech at one of your galas would be a huge mistake,’ oh I sound so  _ lame—”  _

“Hey,” Robin’s voice cut through the rambling, and Marinette looked up. “Look. It has your name after Player One now. Stop thinking about useless things and focus on how to shut this off. Soulmate or not, we can’t have you finding out who we all are after only a day.” 

Nightwing walked over and threw an arm over Robin’s shoulders, even though the older male was still focusing on Marinette out of the corner of his eye. Most people would be offended by the way Robin spoke, blunt and sharp at the same time. But Marinette hadn’t started rambling again, instead the girl stood calmly. Her breaths came slow and regular once more, and her eyes held a scarily familiar focus.  _ Maybe they really do belong together. Huh. Who would have thought his soulmate would be so adorable? And humble. Kind of a mess though, but a cute mess.  _ “Hey, the girl introduced herself and you didn’t even shake her hand. Come on, fill in your name Player 

Two!” 

Robin scowled. He had already deduced that being Player Two was likely due to the fact that Marinette had been the one to initiate the contact that awakened their soul bond. Didn’t mean he liked being second in any respect. His soulmate was also a wreck. All the rambling and random switches in and out of panic. It was aggravating, but… 

But he watched the stern focus in her eyes as she thought about how to temporarily shut down the connection they had. And he had been watching her the whole time. Analyzing her body language. She was easy to rile up, sure, but her panic was never all consuming. Robin could see that her feet always remained firmly planted, her stance fluid and firm. She was always ready to defend herself, whether she knew it or not, regardless of the surface-level panic she might have been experiencing. Even after only twenty or so minutes of interaction, Robin could tell that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was not a 2-D character. She was layered, with secrets and complexities that he was willing to bet few people saw or knew about. Maybe that’s why he walked over to her, and extended a hand that she readily grasped after a brief moment of disbelief. 

“... I’m Robin.” 

He watched the twitch of her eyebrow in exasperation, hiding his amusement under a perfectly developed poker face. The writing on the bottom of his POV’s side filled in; PLAYER TWO: ROBIN. 

“Great,” Marinette deadpanned, looking very unamused. “What if that never changes, huh? I’m not asking you to reveal your identity or anything. Soulmates or not, you don’t owe me something that important. Especially not right away. But you could have at least given me the first letter of your real name or something.” 

“You’ll have to earn that,” Robin retorted with a cocky grin. To his pleasant surprise, Marinette responded by cracking her knuckles. 

“You know, this layout looks suspiciously similar to a combat video game,” she hinted heavily. Robin adjusted his stance and his smirk widened into a grin. 

“Oh? You’re right. Ready to lose?” 

“No,” Batman interrupted, one heavy hand suddenly on both of their shoulders as the teenage soulmates snapped out of the challenging connection they had made. “Not today. Miss Dupain-Cheng—“

“Just Marinette, please, Monsieur Batman.” 

“... Marinette. You said your class left you behind at the hotel, right? Any idea where they would be now?” 

Marinette pulled out her phone to look at the time, frowning. “It’s been about an hour. They’ll probably stay at the museum for another hour, and then they said we would all get dinner at the restaurant across the street.” 

Batman nodded, filing that information away. “Good. Then we have about an hour for the two of you to figure out your bond before we need to drop you off in front of the restaurant to rejoin your class.”

“And have a chat with your teacher about taking roll call and properly taking care of her students while in the most dangerous city in the world,” Nightwing agreed, furious at the fact that any student would be left behind to potentially wander such a dangerous city, like Marinette did. Though, considering who her soulmate was, she probably only felt safe to wander due to confidence in her ability to protect herself. Confidence that they all saw was fairly valid. 

That being decided, the two soulmates sat down. Batman, knowing it was unnecessary for both him  _ and  _ Nightwing to watch over the teens, left to resume patrol. Nightwing stayed. Someone had to watch the teen’s backs as they focused on figuring out their bond. 

And that led to Marinette and Robin both sitting cross-legged and staring at one another without a clue about what to do. After a minute of silent staring, Marinette shifted and her nose scrunched up. 

“Uh,” she said as she was struck with her usual timidity at the awkward situation. Here she was, sitting and trying to figure out her soul bond with a guy she  _ just met.  _ One of Gotham’s heroes, no less, which really was more of a relief than anything. At least he would understand her once she eventually revealed herself as Ladybug to him, and she understood him. She shifted her weight again, unable to move her gaze from Robin’s emerald green eyes. “How about we just… start by meditating? That should help, right?” She watched as his green eyes widened slightly in disbelief, and saw herself fidget again from his point of view. 

“You meditate?” He asked, clearly not having expected that. Marinette sighed, relaxing into the change in conversation. 

“Yeah. I mean, most of Paris meditates now. When your emotions can be used to turn you into a temporary supervillain because of a crazed maniac with a magic artifact, you tend to look for ways to manage your emotions and keep yourself from being vulnerable.” 

“I’m sorry,  _ what?” _ Nightwing asked, and Marinette could tell that he was shocked even despite the mask. “What are you talking about?” 

It was Marinette’s turn to be confused, her brows furrowing as she looked between the two males and realized  _ mon dieu, neither of them know what I’m talking about!  _

“Oh my god,” she said in English. “Paris, we’ve been attacked by a supervillain for the last three years,” she said slowly, but still no recognition. In fact, that only seemed to shock the heroes more. Marinette’s face grew more grim as she decided to completely fill them in. “Three years ago, one of my classmates randomly turned into a huge rock monster. Because of it, Paris’s primary two heroes showed up for the first time to defeat him. When he turned back into a normal boy, the true villain projected himself in front of the Eiffel Tower. His name is HawkMoth. He got hold of a magical artifact called a Miraculous. His Miraculous allows him to corrupt something, in his case butterflies, and use that corrupted object to take advantage of people experiencing negative emotions. His corrupted object takes advantage of those negative emotions to turn the person into a supervillain, giving them powers and essentially brainwashing them into causing havoc. He bargains with them, convincing them that he’ll allow them to get their revenge in exchange for them bringing him what he wants,” Marinette took a breath. “The Miraculous That the two heroes of Paris use. It’s where the get their own powers,” she explained. “Ladybug, the leader, uses the Ladybug Miraculous. It holds the power of creation. Her partner, Chat Noir, uses the cat Miraculous, which holds the power of destruction. If you combine the powers of those two Miraculous, you can make a wish. They will literally  _ manipulate reality  _ in order to grant the wish,” Marinette looked down to her lap, clenching her hands into fists. Through her soul bond with Robin, she could see herself trembling in anger. “But it always comes with a price. The Miraculous uphold the balance of the world. If they grant a wish, they will also  _ balance _ that wish. If you, for example, wish for the cure to an illness,” Marinette swallowed, “then maybe you will unleash a brand new illness that gets brought to your city by rats and wipes out around forty percent of the population in Europe.” 

“The Black Plague,” Nightwing gasped. “That was from a wish made using these— Miraculous?” 

Marinette nodded gravely. “Yes. A wish has also caused the sinking of Atlantis, the wipe out of most of the Native American population in North America from illness, it was the final straw to begin the First World War. You cannot make a wish without consequences,” she stressed. “That is why Ladybug and Chat Noir work so hard to keep their Miraculous away from HawkMoth. But they haven’t been able to discover his identity yet. Nobody has,” Marinette’s shoulders slumped. “Which means Paris can only endure as it gets hit every few days by a new supervillain and new powers. Luckily, one of Ladybug’s power is the ability to reverse any damage that happens due to a Miraculous. It will completely reverse environmental damage, magical effects, injuries, even deaths that occurred from misuse of a Miraculous,” Marinette didn’t notice how both men stiffened at that last admission. “But the most we can do is try to police our emotions as much as possible, keep ourselves from being overcome by negative emotions for very long, so that Hawk Moth doesn’t have the chance to use us. Thus, meditation.” 

Silence reigned for a long moment before Nightwing punched the concrete under him, making Marinette jump. What—?

“How did we not know?” The older hero growled, making Marinette’s eyes shoot wide open. Huh? 

“You really never heard about this?” She asked cautiously, frowning. “Ladybug called the Justice League for help back when this all first started, but she was waved off as if it was all a prank. She tried again later, only to get the same treatment. I thought you would have at least heard about  _ that. _ ” 

Nightwing and Robin both shook their heads. “No,” the older of the two refuted. “Nobody from the League told any of us about a prank call, and usually we’d hear about that. Not many people risk prank calling the heroes of the world, after all. And that doesn’t explain how international news never covers that. Even if the effects are reversed, you’d think someone would report about villains in Paris.” 

“Someone does,” Marinette said, tilting her head. “The Ladyblog used to be the only one, you can find it online. It started out as a really trustworthy source of information on everything happening in Paris with its heroes and Akumas—Which is what the temporary villains are called. But lately, the Ladyblog has been…” Marinette’s face twisted into a scowl. “...not the most reliable news source. But Ladybug herself started a new news app, AkumaWatch, that most of Paris has downloaded by now,” Marinette pulled out her phone to show them. Pulling the app up, she turned the screen so they could see. “This tab holds footage of past or currently occurring attacks. This tab holds resources for calming techniques, and sources for therapy or other emotional aid for anyone who needs it. This tab has self defense techniques and the location of all the Akuma Shelters in the city so people can evacuate as quickly as possible. And this tab,” she clicked on the second to last one, “is for anyone who sees an Akuma, which looks like a corrupt purple butterfly, to take a picture of it. This allows the Akuma Alert to narrow down the area that the attack begins in, so that people know where to avoid most,” she explained. “The last tab is for any PSAs or other public statements that any of Paris’s heroes or public figures have to say about the attacks.” 

“You know a lot about this,” Robin mused slowly, Marinette fully aware of how his gaze remained on her face as she closed the app and put her phone away. Robin was equally aware of how she stubbornly looked anywhere  _ other _ than his face. Marinette shrugged. 

“I helped make the app. Besides, Ladybug occasionally lands on my terrace and we’ll talk when she doesn’t have something better to do. I wouldn’t say we’re friends, exactly, but I think she just likes having someone other than her teammates to talk to about everything with,” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck and smiled sheepishly. “I’m a pretty good listener.” 

Robin and Nightwing traded glances, before they both looked back at her. 

“Okay…” Robin said slowly. “Let’s try meditation.” 

Eager to get away from the previous topic, Marinette easily agreed and both teens adjusted their posture, got comfortable, and closed their eyes. 

As usual both of their visions went completely black, but only for a moment. Once they had both sunk into their meditation, their vision came back to show them in what they immediately, intrinsically knew was a shared mindspace. 

No longer was their vision cut in half like a game. Instead they saw only from their own point of view, like normal, which was disorienting in and of itself after half an hour of seeing from two points of view at the same time. 

The mindspace was mostly white, and it seemed to go on forever. But there were  _ things  _ there. Everything that belonged to Marinette was on pink space, like the floor or sometimes walls and ceiling of the area around that object decided to create a small piece of solidity to emphasize it. Solidity that happened to come in the form of pink. Pink floor in a patch of space, or a cube of pink floor, wall, and patch of ceiling. Likewise, the spots that belonged to Robin were backdropped by green. And the. There were spots that merged both colors, indicating that it was shared. 

Like the giant sparring mat in the center of the room, where the floor beneath and around it was an attractive swirl of pink and green as if the two colors chased one another, creating a design that seemed wholly and completely  _ right.  _ Belonging just to Robin, though Marinette was able to walk over and gently run her hands over them, was a rack of weapons—primarily swords. There was also a couch, a computer, a large bookshelf, a wall of batarangs, and a TV that they apparently shared just like the sparring mat. 

Amongst the pink items were things like a kitchen— a whole, fully stocked kitchen— a sewing station and matching rack of fabric, a computer of her own, a few potted plants, and a loft bed. 

After taking the time to absorb their surroundings, Robin turned to Marinette to find, with relief, that they were both dressed exactly as they were in the physical world. Marinette wasted no time heading over to the shared television, a large flat screen, and sat down on the ground in front of Robin’s green-backdropped couch. 

“What are you doing?” The boy asked in exasperation as Marinette turned on the piece of technology. “This isn’t the time to play around. We’re trying to figure out how to control this bond,” he reminded her. Marinette nodded, not looking back at him. 

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Look, our vision mimicked a video game, right? So where better to find clues than the mysterious TV in our mindspace. I mean, it technically doesn’t  _ actually _ exist, since this isn’t the physical world, so it won’t have any normal channels or shows on it. The TV is connected to our minds. What better place to look for— I knew it!” She shouted in glee. Sure enough, when Robin walked up to her and sat down on the sofa that belonged to him, he saw it. The screen of the TV was split in half, but both sides were dark. In the bottom left of each side of the screen were the very familiar red words and heart-colons; 

PLAYER ONE: MARINETTE DUPAIN-CHENG

PLAYER TWO: ROBIN 

The TV showed the view from their eyes. It was the link between their mindspace and their vision in the real world. 

“Okay…” Robin mused slowly, reaching forward to grab the green controller on the stand that held the TV. Marinette grabbed the matching pink controller. “So this works like a video game, after all.” 

“At least partially,” his soulmate agreed. “It’s mostly a mind link, right? We share a mindspace, which isn’t too odd for soulmates,” even if it was on the rarer side of the spectrum, “But it looks like our minds are even connected through our physical vision. Here, let’s see if this game of life has any instructions,” the girl pressed the center button on her controller, which pulled up an Options tab on the screen. “Yes!” 

“Here, let’s look at the list of controls,” Robin suggested, clicking the appropriate option on the screen. The “game title” was boasted in bright red at the top of the “controls” list; 

Soul Team. 

Marinette’s eyes widened at the title. “Oh,” she said, her voice surprisingly quiet. “It’s… like it’s saying that we’re each other’s backup, no matter what,” her soft voice echoed in the room, striking an odd chord in Robin. “We can always see when the other person is in danger, or what they’re facing, and go to help.” 

“Look at this,” Robin pointed to one of the “controls” lines near the top. “Switch vision mode between Split Screen, Audio Only, Personal Mode, or Sleep Mode. It looks like we can only switch modes here, in the Mindspace,” he pointed out as he read. “We don’t have to agree on the setting, but aside from Sleep Mode, Which activates automatically when we fall asleep, any mode one of us chooses still affects us both.” 

“Audio only just lets us hear what is going on around the other person,” Marinette read, humming in thought. “We can use that as a step two, right? Like, we can start on Personal Mode, where we only have our own Point of Views, but once we get more comfortable we can switch to audio mode every now and then.” 

“Maybe,” Robin agreed reluctantly. Audio mode shouldn’t be too bad… possibly. Once again, his green eyes strayed to his soulmate. Completely unaware, for the first time in a half hour, of his stare, Marinette just continued reading about everything their soul bond entailed. 

Analyzing her like this, Robin was just… calmed, in a way. Visually, Marinette was pretty. She had gorgeous sapphire eyes, clear like a pristine lake, and midnight black hair that shimmered blue in the right lighting. Sure, it was pulled into childish pigtails at the base of her neck, but it didn’t seem to detract from the surprising maturity in the girl’s posture. She was clearly a childish person at heart, and easy to excite if their interactions thus far were anything to go off of, but there was a hidden maturity there. A hidden  _ knowledge,  _ amongst her many subtle layers and complexities. 

Perhaps that was the first similarity that Robin noticed between the two of them. She had what seemed like a very straightforward personality at first glance— the awkward, shy, clumsy, excitable girly girl, just like  _ he  _ was the cold, arrogant, mysterious bad boy on the surface. But she held more than that, secrets and deeper parts of herself that she kept hidden flawlessly. Robin doubted even her closest friends noticed much of what lies beyond the surface of her character. 

“It seems like this bond is supposed to ease us into getting to know each other,” Marinette’s voice brought Robin out of his inner musings. “We can’t hear each other’s thoughts, no matter what, which is usually the feature that comes along with shared mindspaces. But we can adjust the level of privacy we allow one another, and we can meet here when we sleep. It’s less like the bond between gamers, and more like the bond is meant to act like an ice breaker. Like… an activity for us to get to know each other, almost.”

“Our soul bond is a team bonding activity,” Robin surmised in a deadpan tone, completely  _ done _ with the logic of the universe and the way it liked to play with him. The laugh that Marinette let ring out only partially made up for his annoyance. 

“Oui, Oui!” Marinette agreed emphatically before standing up frantically in realization. “Oh! I forgot to ask, do you speak French?” 

Robin grinned and nodded. “I do, actually. I suppose that is at least convenient. My first language is Arabic, however. I don’t suppose you speak that, do you?” 

Marinette’s shoulders slumped. “No. But I do speak Mandarin! And Cantonese, which is actually  _ my _ first language. I’m still working on Mandarin, though. I’ve only been learning it for about two years, but I can hold a decent conversation.” 

Damian nodded, tilting his head. “I am fluent in Mandarin, but my Cantonese can use some work. We can benefit each other in that respect, at least.” 

“So we have plenty of languages to choose from!” Marinette said cheerfully, punctuating her words with an excited clap. “That should make it easy to keep people from eavesdropping on us all the time, at least. If we ever spoke to each other in front of my class, for example, Cantonese would be best to use. They all speak French, for obvious reasons, and several are fluent in English, and one of them is fluent in mandarin, but I don’t think any of them know Cantonese. After I help you get fluent, maybe you could teach me Arabic?” 

And for the first time in Damian Wayne’s life, the sparkle of excitement in a girl’s eyes completely drained his will to argue. Grimacing, the boy agreed to teach her Arabic after they helped each other become fluent in the type of Chinese that they, respectively, needed help with. 

_ This is a problem,  _ Robin thought in despair.  _ She’s already becoming a weakness.  _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pacing? Don’t know her.

So, did you kids figure it out?” Nightwing asked when the two soon-to-be lovebirds opened their eyes. As if reading his mind, Robin turned to glare darkly at the older hero. Ignoring the silent warning, Nightwing just continued to talk. “Because it’s been forty-ish minutes since you guys started meditating. If we wanna make it to the museum on time, we should leave soon.” 

“Forty- _ ish?”  _ Robin repeated incredulously, standing up. “Honestly. You can’t even keep proper track of time?” 

“It’s fine, we figured everything out Monsieur Nightwing,” Marinette interrupted before an argument could spark up. “Our vision is back to normal for now. Oh, but,” she pulled her phone out of her purse, handing it to Robin. “Do you have a secure number you can give me? I can’t exactly wander around Gotham at night every time I want to meet up with you.” 

Robin winced at the visual. “Yes, please don’t do that. I don’t need my job made even harder than it already is,” he grumbled before taking her phone from her casually, and creating a new contact for himself. Unbeknownst to him, she changed his contact name in her phone from ‘Robin’ to a simple green heart emoji the second he gave her the device back. 

_ If he asks, I’ll just say it’s because a green heart is way more subtle than his superhero name, _ she decided silently. 

“Alright, let’s get the smaller lovebird home,” Nightwing teases, successfully making Marinette’s entire face flush bright red. 

“H-h-hey! W-w-we just met and I’m sure Robin doesn’t like me like that yet. I mean, sure our soul bond is romantic and everything, but the actual emotions take time to form and I’m pretty sure Robin doesn’t want to go too fast so really calling us lovebirds is just not accurate yet and really, really embarrassing so if you could not do that, I would really really appreciate it monsieur Nightwing, sir!” Luckily, Marinette’s flailing Arms of Denial provided the perfect opening for Robin to slide his arm around her waist and toss her over his back halfway through her ramble. Apparently being slung over the shoulder of her soulmate wasn’t enough to get her to stop though, since she didn’t even miss a beat and continued until she was done. 

Nightwing only laughed, making Marinette’s blush deepen several shades. 

“I’m never going to get silence again,” Robin groaned as they traveled over the rooftop. 

“Hey, at least she isn’t scared of heights,” Nightwing offered, seeing as Marinette had barely reacted at all even during the steeper jumps and falls they had made. Robin briefly paused at that, turning his head to look back at the French girl as well as he could, given her angle in his fireman carry. 

“That’s a surprisingly astute observation, Nightwing,” Robin begrudgingly complimented. “How  _ are  _ you so calm about this? Does Ladybug randomly take you freerunning, too?” 

It took a solid five seconds of uncontrollable stutter before coherent language seemed to come back to the petite girl. “W-w-What?” Well, mostly. “N-n-no way! I mean, Ladybug would  _ never  _ compromise a c-civilian like that! I just have, a-a passion! Yep. A passion for parkour. Nobody expects it from me, really, but—“ 

“Okay, calm down,” Robin interrupted, rolling his eyes behind his domino mask as he and Nightwing resumed running. “You don’t have to tell me if you really don’t want to. It isn’t like it’s a bad thing. In fact considering who I am, you being afraid of heights at all would be really inconvenient for both of us.” 

“Ha, ha, yeah,” Marinette agreed, her nervous laughter doing nothing to soothe the suspicion both vigilantes had now. Sure, she was Robin’s soulmate, but that didn’t suddenly make her trustworthy. In fact, some people (Jason and Tim) would argue that it made her extremely suspicious, because there was no way someone innocent could be soulmates with Demon Spawn. Robin himself, being the only one to see what exactly inhabited Marinette’s half of their mindspace, was of an entirely different mindset. Everything he saw there indicated she was completely innocent, and nobody had control over the first things to appear in their mindspace if they had one. The things that appeared always reflected the truest aspects of that individual. 

No, Damian Wayne had a much different suspicion. A suspicion that came from the fact that Marinette knew far more intimate details about the villain situation in Paris than she should, from the fact that she had displayed such confidence fighting men twice her size, from the fact that their only shared object in their mindspace besides the TV was a  _ sparring mat,  _ of all things. From the fact that her body language had  _ relaxed  _ for a moment when she found out her soulmate was a vigilante. 

Damian Wayne had a suspicion that his soulmate was a hero.

He only had to look through all of Paris’s heroes to find out which one. 

All too soon, they arrived across the street from the Gotham Museum of History. Suddenly glad that she wore pants instead of the skirt she had been contemplating when they relaxed in the hotel, Marinette slid off of Robin’s shoulder and dusted herself off. 

It had been nice, feeling the wind in her hair and the familiar adrenaline of leaping across buildings, of seeing the world flash by in a mesh of indistinguishable color. Even if she wasn’t the one doing the moving, it was still nice. She knew she wouldn’t be able to swing around as Ladybug while she was here, and she knew the month of reprieve of freerunning was going to take a mental toll on her. 

_ Maybe I can convince Robin to take me with him sometime. Just a short run, that’s all. No crime fighting involved.  _

Yeah, fat chance in Gotham City, but a girl could hope. 

It wasn’t long before a group of fourteen kids and one adult crossed the street, stopping right in front of where Marinette stood with her arms crossed. Having Robin and Nightwing at her side helped her confidence, but the anger and betrayal she felt didn’t hurt it either. 

“Marinette!” Mlle. Bustier exclaimed, eyes wide. She continued rapidly speaking in French, “But— weren’t you with the class—“ she turned, only for a certain pink haired teen to skate forward with her hands on her hips. 

“Uh, no Mlle. Bustier. Adrien and I tried to  _ tell you _ that Marinette never made it on the bus!” 

“But, Alya told me you three were lying because you didn’t want to go to a boring museum!” The teacher said in dismay. Then a frown overcame her face. “Well, regardless. We have departure time set for a reason, Marinette. I expect you, as the class president, to set a good example and arrive on time. Being late is very unbecoming of you, especially considering you weren’t responsible enough to even meet up for the tour. As the person who recommended the museum in the first place, Marinette, I expected more integrity out of you.” 

“Excusez-moi?” Robin spoke up, hands clenched into fists at his side. The teacher jumped, clearly not having anticipating the Gotham hero to understand everything she said. The young Robin continued in perfectly fluent French; “It is not Marinette’s responsibility to take care of your class or to be flawless. It is your own failing as a teacher, neglecting your responsibility to ensure that all of the children under your care are safe and accounted for. While in Gotham, you are supposed to act as their caretaker and their parents are relying on you to do at least a halfway decent job. Instead, you allow your own class President, the only reason any of you are even  _ here _ and  _ able  _ to visit anywhere, to get left behind and almost kidnapped in the most crime ridden city in the country!” The vigilante never raised his voice, the iciness of his tone easily carrying and showing how deadly serious every last word was. Caline Bustier could only freeze under Robin’s wrathful glare. 

Nightwing’s hand on Robin’s shoulder stopped the tirade, though the older hero’s gaze never left the teacher either. “We will be keeping an ear out, madam,” he said in deceptively cheerful French. Bustier twitched again in surprise. There was still a threat under that cheerful tone. “Any kid left behind in this city, especially if they don’t  _ know _ the city, is in a lot of danger. I suggest you do your job unless you want the police having a talk with you too, instead of us friendly vigilantes,” he warned. “Now then, try to have a good rest of your night Marinette.  _ Stay safe.  _ Hopefully you won’t have to see us anytime soon, yeah?” He switched back to English, earning a wry smile and small nod from Marinette. 

Neither Gotham hero missed the way Marinette shrunk in on herself as soon as she realized they were leaving. Two sets of masked eyes narrowed, but otherwise they gave no sign of noticing. A brief wave from the friendlier of the two heroes later, and they were gone. 

Marinette couldn’t help but feel like a sheep left in a pack of wolves. 

Thankfully, her class at least had the decency to wait until they were all sat down and had finished ordering before pouncing. 

“Honestly, Marinette?” Alya snapped, eyebrow raised and scowl on her lips. “I can’t believe you would waste the time of Gotham’s heroes just for attention. Look at how sad Mlle. Bustier is now!” She waved a hand to the teacher, who was still in obvious shock. “I can’t even imagine what you did to make them think you were about to get kidnapped. Probably some poor innocent guy in prison now because of your whining, and what if wasting time with you made Nightwing and Robin miss out on saving someone in  _ actual  _ trouble, huh, girl?” 

Lila broke into tears. “I-I’m just so g-glad you’re safe, Marinette! When you told m-me you felt s-sick and wanted us to g-go without you, I h-hoped you wouldn’t c-c-cause any trouble,” a giant fake sob ripped itself from Lila’s lying throat. “But this is what I g-g-get for having faith in y-you!” Everyone quickly rushed to assure Lila that she had to reason to feel bad about Marinette’s behavior, it wasn’t her fault Marinette was an attention hog. 

It was all the pigtailed girl could do, to sink down in her seat and thank every power in the universe that she hadn’t suggested moving onto Audio Only Mode with Robin yet. She had an odd suspicion that anger management wasn’t exactly one of his strengths. 

_ Just take deep breaths,  _ she thought, doing the best she could to keep herself calm while she ate. Alix leaned into her arm, offering comforting weight and silent support. Marinette just smiled at her gratefully. Speaking up would do nothing right now, not while everyone was so solidly against her and Adrien was stuck as Lila’s human teddy bear. He sent her an apologetic glance, but Marinette could only shrug. As much as she still liked having him around as Chat, she had long since gotten used to not getting help in class from Adrien. 

Marinette sunk into her bed once they got back to the hotel, the silence of the room weighing on her. She was the odd student out, so she didn’t have a roommate.

“Maybe tomorrow will be better, Marinette,” Tikki tried to cheer her up, the tiny Kwami flying over and nestling next to Marinette’s face in a pseudo hug. The teen just hummed in halfhearted agreement, closing her eyes. It took a while, but she was eventually able to sink off into slumber. 

—*—*—*—*—*

“You seem tired,” Robin remarked blandly, raising an eyebrow at Marinette’s dejected form just slumped half-on half-off of her loft bed. Her head was part of the half actually  _ on _ the bed, and thus her expression was hidden from Robin as she let out a loud groan of despair. “Are you dying?” 

“Noooo,” Marinette paused. “Maybe.” 

“And why are you  _ maybe _ dying?” Robin walked over to his weapons rack, where a brand new section of green wall was revealed over it boasting domino masks. Considering he had went to sleep, he obviously hadn’t been in uniform. Which, therefore, meant he wasn’t in uniform in the dreamspace. Quickly pulling on one of the masks, he turned back to the loft bed. 

Marinette still hadn’t lifted her head. 

“... is your identity safe now?” 

“Yes, I have my mask on.” 

Marinette wasted no time sitting up after that, exposing Robin to the absolutely  _ dejected _ look on her face. Immediately his eyebrows shot up, the way her hair fell loose around her head instead of being held in pigtails only emphasizing the sorry state she was in. 

It had really been a gamble, talking to himself when he reached his room to ask Marinette if she would do her best not to look at him when he first entered the mindspace. A gamble that apparently paid off. Apparently if one of them was asleep or meditating, they could still see through the other person’s eyes if they watched TV in the mindspace. 

But now he couldn’t really care about his identity as much as usual, considering his stalling meant she had been left alone to wallow in whatever misery left her in this state. 

“What happened?” That came out harsher than he intended it to, but Marinette Luckily didn’t seem to care. She just heaved a heavy sigh and slipped off her bed. She didn’t even use the ladder, just letting herself slide off and land surprisingly nimbly on her feet. Robin narrowed his eyes. 

_ Parkour,  _ he thought with a mental scoff.  _ Sure. Wait, that doesn’t matter right now.  _

“It’s just my class,” Marinette confided, fiddling with the long sleeve of her pajama top. “It’s really stupid, and I know I should be strong enough to ignore the things they say, but it still hurts. A lot.” 

A very unfamiliar feeling caused Robin to bristle and stand up straighter. “Things? What things do they say?” He watched as Marinette fidgeted nervously, and then went to his couch. She looked between it and him for a second, silently asking permission to sit on it considering it was a Green Item and therefore his by default. He simply nodded, moving over to sit next to her. 

“It’s dumb, and you really don’t have to worry about it,” she started, but she also couldn’t fight the urge to confide in him. Maybe it was the mindspace, the aura of it heavily persuading the two inhabitants to speak nothing but the truth while there. Maybe it was the bond itself, trying to convince her that she could trust him. Whatever it was, she had never wanted to tell someone about her issues this badly before. 

“I didn’t ask for reasons to not worry, I asked for what they said,” Robin retorted firmly. Marinette actually chuckled at that, the bluntness reassuring her. 

_ I guess Chloe was right, huh?  _

So she explained. She stared down at the green floor under her feet or the couch cushions or the TV or the vast white expanse of their mindspace, but never Robin. She never looked at him as she recounted everything that happened after Lila Rossi joined the class, how she took her friends away and lied every chance she got to make Marinette look bad. How she had even managed to spin a lie that got the whole class believing that Marinette got left behind and almost kidnapped on  _ purpose,  _ for  _ attention,  _ despite Marinette having social anxiety and not liking having large amounts of attention on her to begin with. 

She explained every harsh detail of Alya, her previous best friend, betraying her and turning into her second worst bully because of Lila. How only Alix remained by her side and her class as a whole ridiculed, isolated, and bullied her. If they didn’t bully her, they ignored that anything was happening. She explained how Adrien, also her friend, was given the ultimatum that if he didn’t keep Lila happy he would be withdrawn from school and effectively isolated at home again. She explained that he tried to help, but was often stopped from doing more than offering a warm glance by Lila’s grip around one of his arms (almost always his left arm nowadays, since even Lila knew better than to touch or obstruct someone’s soul mark without permission). 

“And it’s really just dumb school drama,” Marinette was wrapping up, the sleeve of her nightshirt sporting several holes in it from how she had been worrying at it throughout her whole story. Normally she wouldn’t dare hurt her clothes in such a way, but here it didn’t matter. In the mindspace, nothing but their own consciousness actually existed. She could destroy her clothes all she wanted here, and they would be perfectly fine when she woke up. “I just need to suck it up and not let Lila’s words affec—“ 

Marinette almost bit her tongue when she was flicked on the forehead, her eyes crossing as she tried to spot the offending hand. Slowly coming out of her shock, she followed the hand to the wrist, then arm, then the face of a very frustrated Robin. His eyebrows were pulled down low over his masked eyes, the hand that hadn't just flicked her was clenched in a fist and shaking. Marinette was pretty sure that he would have been making his palm bleed if they had been in the physical world right then. 

“No,” Robin’s voice was strained, as if he was doing his best not to raise his voice. It still trembled with anger. “The way they are treating you is incredibly uncalled for, unjustified and dishonorable. You should not be forced to manage your emotions even on the level that Hawkmoth forces all of Paris to do every day, let alone force yourself to cope with what is clearly serious harassment. They are taking advantage of you, Marinette. They are using you because they know you will provide things they favor— clothes, baked goods, and whatever else you might give them. They are not entitled to that, though. They are not entitled to your kindness or forgiveness, and they are not entitled to your patience. If they do not want to or are too dumb to acknowledge the truth of what is happening, that is  _ their _ fault and the way they are treating you because of it is unacceptable. And your teacher! Nightwing and I were not bluffing when we threatened to get her investigated. I tried to research you after patrol today, but Red Robin pointed out that it may be seen as insensitive or intrusive of me. Perhaps you should allow me to do so anyway, so that we can take proper action if there is proof of your school being negligent.” 

“Robin, that really isn’t necessary,” it said a lot that Marinette no longer had the energy to wave her hands in denial. She just spoke in a defeated tone. 

Robin flicked her again. 

“I am your soulmate, not your therapist. But it is wholly unacceptable for the person who is supposed to be by my side for the rest of my life to be mistreated or emotionally abused in such a way. The fact that you have not even been akumatized by that villain in Paris yet despite going through all of this is clear testimony that you have a strong mind and will, but everyone has their limits. When you feel yourself approaching said limits, you can meditate and turn on Audio Only Mode, so that I know you need to vent.” 

“But I can’t let my emotions get out of control when I am back in Paris,” Marinette started to say, but was cut off by Robin already shaking his head. 

“That does not count here. Very few magics can penetrate a soulbond mindspace, and I severely doubt an Akuma is one of them. You can go to sleep or meditate, and release all of your frustrations here where it is safe. Letting them build up will only cause more damage in the long run.” 

The Asian girl shifted, looking first at the green floor beneath her and then up to Robin’s face. Her posture said that she was relaxed, at least a lot more than she had been during her entire confession, but her eyes held worry. He could see it swimming in those sapphire depths. 

“Are you sure it’s okay?” She asked weakly in French. The slip back to her most commonly used language made Robin frown. He really was far from the best person to comfort anyone, even his own soulmate. He was flying blind here, and could only do what he saw as logical. Surely his soulmate, of all people, would accept that. 

“I do not make it a habit of expressing many of my emotions very often,” he admitted slowly. “But I understand that you do not come from my circumstances. I will not be bothered.” 

Insecurity wormed its way into her blue eyes l, pushing the normal worry away. “Even if we’re soulmates…” she started hesitantly, squirming in her seat. “You shouldn’t have to put up with me. I mean, I overreact a l—“ 

“No.” 

Marinette was startled, eyes wide and uncomprehending. “Excusez moi?” 

“No,” Robin repeated. “You are not overreacting. I will not allow you or anyone else to think that about yourself. If nothing else, everyone is entitled to their emotions,” he stubbornly pushed away unpleasant memories. This wasn’t about him. He could not have his soulmate in an unstable state of mind. It was not acceptable, even if he did not know or fully trust her yet. “You are my soulmate,” he said slowly, leaning forward and staring into her eyes to try and hammer in the words he spoke. “As such, I will not allow anyone to treat you as anything less than royalty. Not even yourself.” 

Marinette was certain she would have passed out from forgetting to breath, had they not been in a mental world separate from physical reality. 

_ Oh, this is so much worse than fawning over Adrien.  _


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are trigger warnings in the end notes
> 
> And Gotham gives our French class a cold-blooded welcome. No rogues needed.

**quick reminder, Trigger Warnings are in the end notes. Thank you, and stay safe!**

  
“Sooo,” a familiar large form propped itself against the desk under the Batcomputer with one arm. “When do we get to meet _Mrs. Demon Spawn_ , huh?” 

“Go away, Todd,” Damian said dismissively, tapping away at the keyboard. “And if I have my way? Never. The last thing I need is for her to be corrupted by you simpletons.” 

“What are you— is that your soulmate’s class?” Timothy Drake asked as soon as he came into the Batcave and laid eyes on what Damian was searching. “I thought we agreed that I would do her background check so that you didn’t risk losing her trust or making her mad, Damian,” Tim reminded the young Robin as he stalked over to join his two brothers at the large computer. Damian waved one hand carelessly. 

“Yes, yes. But Marinette gave me permission to conduct my own investigation. She is entirely too worried about how said investigation may negatively impact her school and classmates, despite them being no better than chittering _rats._ But I managed to get her to agree that their treatment of her is inadequate and that I may go about fixing that inadequacy on my own terms.” 

“You’re not allowed to murder a whole class,” Tim retorted easily. “Not even just the teacher, Dami.” 

The raven haired teen spun around in his chair to nail his older brother with a fierce emerald glare. “Murder was never considered, _Drake_. It would only further compromise my soulmate’s mental health, and that is not an option. Complete and utter social annihilation and loss of occupation as a teacher, however, is still very much a viable route for me to consider. Possibly jail time, depending on what I find. Nobody is allowed to harass a future Wayne, much less someone the universe considers to be my perfect compliment. I shall make sure they are fully aware of their horrendous misstep in due time.” 

Tim frowned, eyebrows furrowing. It was kind of cute, seeing the cold Damian acting like this, but… “Don’t you think that you’re being a little controlling? Or overprotective?” 

“Not at all. It is in the best interest of both halves of a bond that their soulmate remains in good health. That is all.” 

“So… you’re not treating this whole thing like a personal insult?” 

“Isn’t it?” 

Jason snorted, and Damian watched as Tim’s face twisted into something halfway between concerned and constipated. 

“I thought B was bad with emotions,” Jason quipped, standing straighter and crossing his arms. “Would you like to commission some custom bubble wrap fashion with that smothering?” 

“I am not… smothering,” Damian protested, practically spitting the last word. Tim sighed, shaking his head. 

“Not yet, I’m sure she’s flattered by the whole protective thing you’ve got going on right now. But the way you’re handling it can easily _get_ smothering. And even if you do find proof of negligence in the school, it will take _time_ to get things done. And their class would need a substitute chaperone if we get their teacher deported, unless you want the whole class and your soulmate to join her.” 

“I’m sure Father can arrange for one. He is the host for their trip after all, it would not be amiss.” 

“You’re missing the point, Demon Spawn,” Jason interrupted. “This girl’s _your_ soulmate, right? And Dickie-bird told me she had taken down two of the men almost before you guys _got there_ to help. She’s obviously pretty independent, yeah? How would you feel if she tried to solve all of your problems for you without your input?” 

“If she managed to do so before I could solve my own problems, I would be suitably impressed.” 

Tim facepalmed, muttering something along the lines of ‘I don’t have enough coffee in my blood to deal with this right now.’ “Okay, let’s put it this way,” Tim said slowly as if he was talking to a child, instantly making Damian bristle. “Let’s imagine that a group of people kept escaping you and robin and left you a bit roughed up after each encounter. No, don’t argue about the unlikelihood of anyone handing you your ass because, contrary to what you might think, you aren’t invincible. Remember the whole you’ve-died-already thing? Anyway. These guys keep leaving you a bit roughed up and manage to escape over and over again, and your soulmate gets protective and taken them down for you without involving you in it. What would your reaction be?” 

The young man opened his mouth, shut it, thought about it for another moment, and then slowly began to speak. “I think I would be impressed that she could do such a thing where I could not. However, if I am the one being bested— as unlikely as that is— I would want to teach those idiots my superiority personally. I do not need to be babied or protected like a liability.” 

“There we go, I knew we’d get your brain to work eventually,” Jason snarked with a sharp smirk. Damian whipped out his foot like a snake, hooking it around Jason’s ankle and sending the larger male hurtling to the ground heavily. Unfortunately, the buff male had enough experience to break his fall with his palms and roll back up to standing without even getting the breath knocked out of him, but at least the maneuver kept Jason a few extra feet away. 

“Do you think _Marinette_ wants to be babied, Damian?” 

That question came from the Father Figure himself, Bruce Wayne leaning against a wall a decent distance away from his sons. His sole biological spawn scowled, and spun back to the computer. 

“I will not cease my research into her class,” he said stubbornly. There was a brief moment of silence before he continued; “I will, however, consult her on what she wants to do moving forward, the next time we speak.” 

“Yeah, that reminds me. How _did_ you talk to her?” Tim spoke up, eyebrows furrowed. “You left your phone here in the Cave last night, and I know for a fact that you didn’t sneak out.” 

“Guess for yourself, supposed genius,” the youngest boy in the room retorted in an all too familiar bratty tone. “I don’t want to hand feed you the answers or you’ll lose brain cells you can’t spare.” 

“Why you—“ Tim growled somewhere in the back of his throat. 

“Boys.” Bruce intercepted before one of them could lunge and start a brawl. “Does your bond come with a mindspace, Damian? Or a mental connection?” 

“Tch,” Damian decided to cut his losses, saving his progress in his research to his personal server before even entertaining the idea of answering. When he did, it was a simple; “We can go there when we meditate or sleep.” 

Bruce nodded, seemingly deep in thought. “I see. That was how you and Marinette got your bond figured out so quickly, then. It’s odd for a mind space to have two ways to access it, though. Usually soul bonds that have mindspaces, already rare in their own right, have one sole way of access. Sleep, meditation, verbal agreement, and manual activation of a soul mark being the most common.” 

“I’ve heard of soulmates only ending up in their mind space if one of them was in extreme danger, or even in a coma,” Jason offered helpfully. Damian glared at him, not appreciative of that addition. 

“Enough,” the youngest hero barked, standing up and marching to the nearest exit. “I have indulged quite enough gossip about my soul bond. I’m going out on patrol, and if you don’t want me going alone then you better hurry up.” 

Which was apparently not a good decision, since a crackle started up in Robin’s ears before noise filtered in. There was faint music, and fainter breathing. Robin furrowed his brows even as he began to dress in his uniform. 

“Robin?” The sound of Marinette’s voice, the girl clearly talking to herself in an empty room, confirmed Damian’s suspicion that audio only mode had been turned on. “Are you okay?” 

“Of course,” he replied easily, keeping his voice low lest his nuisance of a family catch him talking to empty air. “Is there something wrong? We agreed this mode would be for important situations only.” 

“I know,” Marinette’s voice filtered crystal clear through their bond. “But I felt a buzz coming from you, like when your character takes damage in a game and the controller vibrates.” 

“That’s odd,” Robin said aloud, inwardly exasperated at having such a convoluted, _childish_ bond. Why couldn’t it have been something more practical? Even a complete body-switch bond would have been more tolerable than this complex mess. “I haven’t even gone on patrol yet, there is nothing that has caused me any physical damage.” 

The silence on the other end was long, long enough for Robin to finish changing and arming himself. Long enough for him to grow curious. “What are you pondering?” He asked, knowing from the subtle background noises that were clearly not from his own surroundings that she had not yet changed the bond’s mode. 

“I was just thinking,” she mused slowly. “I don’t think our bond is physical at all. No physical markings, we aren’t aware of one another’s physical state in any way that some other bonds are. It seems entirely based on free will and emotion. Seeing both of our perspectives at once, or seeing through the other person’s eyes while in our personal world—“ Marinette paused for a second, slightly stuttering as she tried to find the right wording in her third language. She gave up and switched to French, knowing he wouldn’t have a problem understanding. “It’s like a surveillance camera. It’s less like a mental connection, and more like a way for us to keep an eye out for one another. Like, protectiveness or worry given form,” she explained as best as she could. “Audio Only is a less drastic form of that, like reassurance. Privacy is, well, privacy. So maybe when one of us experiences a flash of extreme emotion—“

“It will translate as a game-related response through the bond,” Robin completed, eyebrows raised at the surprising insight from such a seemingly simple girl. Creative, too. “But there are too many emotions to encompass the small amount of signals a controller can give.” 

“Maybe it’s just anger,” Marinette mused. “We both know how to fight, you obviously, and we have a sparring mat in our personal space. It would make sense for the bond to warn us if one or the other is angry enough for the other to have to be careful.” 

“If only all soul bonds were that considerate,” Robin grumbled. Soul bonds were not infallible. Or rather, the people who bore them weren’t. A soul bond could only remain pure for as long as the person who had it didn’t corrupt into something dangerous to their soulmate. Addictions were the primary cause of this corruption, misuse of magic a second one. The bond could never be removed, but people thought so highly of them that those stuck in corrupted bonds couldn’t often escape. It was looked down upon, and extremely confusing to most of the population, for anyone to willingly renounce their soulmate. 

So much could be solved if every bond offered warnings like his and Marinette’s. 

“Hey, Demon Spawn! You’re the one who made a dramatic exit and said you were going on patrol, what’s taking you so damn long?!” Jason’s voice bellowed from the other side of the door, followed by harsh pounding of his fist on the metal. Robin grumbled, glad that Jason’s penchant for calling him demon-spawn at least served the purpose of protecting his identity. 

“I’ll be right there, you impatient imbecile!” Damian barked back, before lowering his voice. “You need to turn Privacy back on _now,”_ he hissed. It was the first time he had used a rude tone of voice to Marinette since their bond formed. Surprisingly, the girl wasn’t upset. 

“Shh, I’m trying to meditate,” she whisper-yelled right back. It took almost a whole precious minute, but the sounds soon shut off and Damian— _Robin_ — allowed himself to relax and jerk open the door before Jason could bang some more. 

“Do you _mind?”_ He seethed. “My soulmate called me, you almost gave away my identity!” Jason didn’t need to know the intricacies of his and Marinette's soul bond. Nobody did. Robin would not speak of the details to anyone other than his soulmate herself unless said detail(s) were vital to the situation at hand. Damian was just glad he had actually retrieved his phone and had kept it in his jean pockets even while changing into his uniform. It sat on top of his folded clothes now, a shining beacon of misdirection. 

“Your soulmate heard you calling me an imbecile, then?” Jason snorted. His features weren’t exactly discernible under the helmet, but Damian didn’t need to see his face to know it was infuriating. “Did they at least defend me?” 

“Of course not, they have no idea who I was speaking to.” 

“Great, so they’ll let you insult _anybody,”_ Jason shook his head. “If Dickie bird hadn’t already shown me a picture of her, I’d assume she was some overly buff assassin girl with coal for a soul.” 

“Coal?” Damian repeated blandly, quickly heading for his motorcycle. 

“Yeah. Black, made of dead things, and liable to light on fire or explode under the correct conditions. Horrible for the environment when burned as fuel.” 

“I’m going to ignore that and attempt to save my intelligence from your nonsensical babbling,” Was all the notice Robin gave before speeding out of the Batcave as fast as his bike could take him. Unfortunately for him, Jason had more experience driving and easily caught up on his own motorcycle. 

_I hate this family._

—*—*—*—*—*

“... And obviously I think Wayne Enterprises is wayyyy better, because my Damiboo is going to inherit it and I totally support him, but it’s nice to scope out business competitors considering I’ll likely be running the whole thing by his side in the future,” Liar Rossi was at it again. Alix and Marinette shared a look. 

“I don’t get how she still has everyone hooked on the idea that she’s dating Damian Wayne of all people,” the skater whispered. She was without her usual roller skates, but only because their current tour location didn’t allow them. Apparently Goth Corp was anti-fun. They didn’t even tour anywhere with anything dangerous, and if they saw any equipment it was from the other side of a thick wall of glass. A pro like Alix would never have caused an issue skating around everywhere, but Goth Corp was adamant in denying her. It was odd for Marinette, considering Alix was shorter than usual in normal sneakers and it threw the part-time hero off. “Especially when she’s still hanging off of Adrien like he’s her personal jungle gym,” the model in question looked so resigned and uncomfortable that Marinette ached for the poor guy. 

The pigtailed girl sighed, shaking her head. She was five seconds away from doing her best to come up with a plan to temporarily separate the leech and her victim. Even if Adrien wasn’t there for her often in civilian personas, she knew he wasn’t a bad guy. She also had no idea what it was like to be him, live his life, have a father like Gabriel. She had no doubt he’d figure everything out eventually though, and she’d welcome him with open arms if he ever decided to go back to being the friend she once adored. 

“I know,” she responded out loud in a soft whisper. “It’s almost like she’s got them all under a spell.” 

“Think she’s a witch?” Alix asked curiously, studying the sausage-haired teen with narrowed eyes. Her friend shook her head. 

“I don’t think so. Unless she’s just really bad at magic and can’t hypnotize us with everyone else for some reason.” 

“So, failure witch?” 

Marinette was about to laugh and respond, her whole class just filing into the lobby of Goth Corp after seeing everything their very short tour had to offer. They had been scheduled to tour for only an hour, and at the closest time to closing as possible. Damocles, Bustier, and Lila (no surprise there) had been so adamant about wanting to visit that their host had arranged the trip for them— but it was clear Wayne wanted them to spend as little time as possible there. 

And suddenly, everyone agreed. Because not a second after Alix and Marinette, at the very back of the group, entered the lobby, the doors were kicked in and no less than twenty heavily armed individuals stormed into the room. 

“Get the fuck _down!”_ One man, presumably the one in charge, pointed a terrifying semiautomatic at the class as the others he had just broken into the building with surrounded the teacher, students, tour guides, and the few unlucky employees that were still there. “Hands on your heads, any phones or anything hand them over slowly. Nuh uh little lady, one hand only. You don’t need both of them to hand over a phone—good. Not a fucking word out of _any_ of you, got it? Herman, Jake, get them all up against the wall,” he nodded to two men, who broke formation to prod the group of kids and adults towards one corner of the room. 

“See here? You all are going to be the perfect fucking hostages or you’ll be the perfect fucking _examples,_ capiche?” A woman broke from the ring of armed people to stand next to the leader guy, who nodded silently. The woman aimed her semi-automatic at one of the employees. 

“Get up,” she barked, walking over to the man. Once he shakily stood up, the woman grabbed him roughly by the bicep and dragged him over to the front desk, where she shoved the desk phone into his hands. “Call the big boss. And watch your fingers,” she nodded to the several guys aiming straight at them with their guns, and propped her own on the table so that the muzzle pressed into the guy’s chest. “If you _accidentally_ dial any emergency shit, then me or my buddies will _accidentally_ fill you with lead. Got it?” 

“I-I—I can’t! He went home for the day, and—“ 

“Then call his fucking _cellphone,_ idiot,” she cut him off with a snarl, rattling off a number out loud. Gulping and deciding not to question how she knew Boyle’s number, he scrambled to punch it in. 

Meanwhile, the French class in the corner was panicking. It had finally set in that they were _not in Paris,_ which meant that any damage or deaths here would _not_ be reversed. Alix was starting to hyperventilate despite the focus in her eyes. She wanted to _do_ something. Marinette could see it, but Alix also knew the gravity of the situation and wouldn’t dare act. The contradiction was making her panic. 

So Marinette whispered her name, making Alix’s eyes snap over to her. Blue eyes stared into hers, calm and steady and grounding. 

“Deep breaths,” the Asian girl whispered firmly. “We can’t fight, but they want us to be scared. We can deny them that,” she looked over at her other classmates. The ones still lucid enough through their terror locked their eyes on her, her whispering attracting their adrenaline-heightened senses. “Everyone, meditate. Calm down and we’ll be fine.” 

_I’ll make sure of it, though I was really hoping to never have to use my bond like this,_ Marinette thought as she closed her eyes. “Breathe with me. One… two… three…” _but I always have had the worst luck, haven’t I? Even if having Tikki has made it a lot better over the years,_ she felt her palm lightly brush her purse as she thought about Tikki. She couldn’t risk being Ladybug in Gotham, but the lucky Kwami wasn’t the only one she had with her. Still, she would only use a Miraculous as an absolute last resort. 

She really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

White surrounded Marinette for a brief second before familiar splashed of green and pink informed her that she had successfully reached her and Robin’s private world. She didn’t allow herself the usual few moments of admiring the fact that the space even existed like she had every other time she’s visited it over the past almost twenty-four hours, instead rushing over to the TV and thinning her lips. 

The night before she had turned Robin’s volume on low and covered his viewpoint with the options screen until he went to sleep to join her, so that she wouldn't risk figuring out anything he didn’t want her to know. As long as the Tv was on, it was impossible to shut off the other person’s POV on the screen entirely. But now she turned the volume up, and watched through his eyes as he buried his fist into some thug’s face. As soon as it was apparent that he was in no immediate risk, which only took a second since apparently the now knocked out thus had been the last guy standing in that particular alleyway with Robin, she turned on Audio Only. Her own side of the split screen was black, but the sounds were still loud and clear considering she was still awake. She hadn’t noticed the other night on the empty rooftop, but now she could tell that even in meditation she could clearly hear her surroundings. 

She saw the left side of the screen jerk slightly as Robin stiffened, and then let out a “ _shit! Oracle—“_

Marinette ignored the rest of what he said, bringing herself out of meditation with Audio Only still on. She was pretty sure her soulmate would catch on to the fact that she wouldn’t be able to talk much in her current situation, but the guys holding the building at gunpoint were doing more than enough talking of their own to fill him in on the important bits. 

“Cough once if you can see any identifying marks on their uniforms, twice if you can’t,” Robin’s soft but commanding voice filtered through their bond. 

Marinette studied the group for a moment before coughing twice as subtly as she could. 

“Okay, not a shock there. Oracle hacked into the surveillance cameras already but I was hoping it was something more easily seen in person. We’re on our way. Stay calm, stay down, don’t do anything stupid.” 

Marinette allowed a soft growl as her response to that, getting only a short snort in reply. 

But that plan only held for about five minutes. Marinette was keeping a very close eye on everything, her Ladybug mindset the only keeping her from being in the same mental state as her classmates. She let her eyes slide to the side, observing that Adrien was in his own Chat Noir mindset and just as eerily calm and focused as she was. She was at least glad that he wasn’t fingering his ring. He and Ladybug had had a long talk about both of them needing to only be sighted in Paris and nowhere else after the _last_ time he left to go on a trip out of town and had taken his Miraculous for a little joy ride over the rooftops. She was just glad nobody got clear shots and just wrote him off as Catwoman. 

And that was when Lila started having a violent panic attack that drew Marinette’s attention. She had no idea what set it off or if it was just the whole situation finally sinking in, but Marinette saw genuine tears for the first time flow down the girl’s face and leave her skin red and patchy. Her sobs weren’t loud, but her sudden begging and pleading _were._ Her eyes were dilated and crazed, and Marinette knew immediately that this was not faked. Lila was in full hysterics, and she was going to get herself _shot._

Before the Asian girl could move, the leader of the group looked over with a scowl and a growl. “Shut her the fuck in, _now!”_

Nobody moved. Not even Madam Bustier. Nobody had the composure to calm themselves down, let alone someone else. 

But, despite how much she despised Lila on a personal level, Marinette would never let _anyone_ suffer through a panic attack by themselves, let alone get killed for it. 

So she carefully rushed over before Adrien could do much more than shift in place. He had been about to help Lila too, but Marinette couldn’t allow that. Somehow the two had been separated, and she didn’t want to know how the armed men with short patience would react to a boy rushing out from the back of a group of hostages towards their leader. 

But Marinette? They didn’t react. She kneeled by Lila, and spoke in soft English to her. She did her best to calm the girl down, but the Italian just wasn’t responding. She was too far in shock. So Marinette took a risk, and started speaking in French. Slowly and carefully, as if speaking to a baby. It took a few seconds, but Lila eventually came back to earth and focused on the classmate she tormented so often. Lila took a deep breath, and asked; 

“What are we going to do?” In English. In soft, scared, but perfectly intelligible English. 

Seeing movement out of the corner of her eye, Marinette started to talk faster to try and reassure her until a calloused hand gripped her around the arm and tugged her up. 

“I told you to shut her up, not plot with her!” The leader growled into Marinette’s face. Blue eyes swung around until they met Adrien’s lime green ones, and she quickly shook her head. 

“Stay down,” she told him, letting the leader drag her to the middle of the floor and out of the immediate range of her classmates. “Don’t do anything stupid.” 

“Don’t just repeat my advice,” Robin’s voice came through the bond again, but Marinette could hear the tenseness to it. “ETA three minutes. Stay alive.” 

“So what were you two talking about in that fancy language of yours, eh?” The leader asked, pressing a pistol to Marinette’s forehead. His finger wasn’t on the trigger, which helped the girl to keep her cool, but she knew exactly the kind of danger she was in. The Miraculous suits were indestructible, but _she_ wasn’t. 

“I was only calming her down, like you said,” she assured him, proud that her voice remained steady and strong. Her classmates were watching, and she had to make sure she didn’t do anything to make them break further. If remaining confident and looking unshakeable despite the internal urge to run and hide gave them the ability to stay strong and calm, then that’s what she would do. “She was not responding to English, so I had to use a language she could process easier. I don’t know Italian, so I had to use French.” 

There, the subtle snark brought weak grins to a couple faces among the hostages but wasn’t enough to do more than make the man in front of her push the gun a bit more firmly against her head. 

The small heroine found herself rugged against the man’s chest, and it took one long moment for her to realize hysterically that she was being used _as a meat shield._

And there were bright lights shining in through the front windows. Marinette’s heart sunk. Normally police would be a good thing, but not when there was at least another minute or two before the vigilantes could arrive in _silence and stealth._ There was the crackle of a speaker coming to life, and then the projected voice of an older male. 

“We have the building surrounded. We are willing to negotiate for you to release the hostages.” 

“Who the _fuck_ called the cops?” Marinette grimaced as she felt cold steel press harder against her head, this time at her temple because of the change in position. His team all aimed their guns at the group of hostages. The girl from earlier walked around the table, ducking down behind it for a second before looking at the receptionist she had dial the phone and releasing a full round into his chest. 

Screams erupted from the sudden violence, but the pigtailed girl drowned it all out. Even her soulmate’s sudden sharp questioning in her mind’s ear. 

Marinette’s eyes were glued to the man— the _corpse_ — now on the ground with wide eyes. She felt herself stop breathing, she felt her veins go cold.

And then she felt a burning rage she had never experienced before. 

“One of them tripped the silent alarm,” the woman— _murderer, murderermurderermurderer—_ explained in such a casual tone that Marinette felt herself start to tremble. The man holding her chuckled darkly. 

“Finally scared, little girl?” 

Marinette did something she was sure she never would have done in any other circumstance. She turned her face, ignoring the muzzle of the gun now pressed to her forehead again, and let her eye meet the gaze of the man holding her. 

“I’m _angry,”_ she responded, shocked by the coldness in her own voice. 

The man chuckled again, digging his gun in harder. Marinette was sure she’d have at least a red spot there in the morning if not a full bruise. 

“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it, cutie?” 

A flash of red, black, and green in the corner of her eye alerted her. Forcing her gaze to remain locked on the leader’s so she didn’t give anyone away, she opened her mouth. 

“Nothing. I’m a tiny defenseless French girl that you’re using as a shield. Great plan, by the way, I’m not even big enough to completely cover your chest,” she saw his finger go to the trigger. “But I’m not the one you have to worry about. Your second in command is oddly silent.” 

Eyes wide, the guy turned his head to see the woman— _Killer killer killer—_ unconscious on the ground with her wrists in zip ties behind her back. 

_Four. Seven. Eleven,_ Marinette silently counted the thumps she heard around her as the guy took in the fact that his right hand thug was down. Really, Marinette had to struggle to count since the thuds were happening so quickly— they had to have at least three people to be working so fast and silently. 

Once Marinette got to seventeen, she knocked man’s hand away by the wrist and spun in a tight circle before landing a _harsh_ palm strike to the guy’s diaphragm. Kevlar he might have, but a precise and forceful enough slam still did the trick. He stumbled back for a second, giving Marinette the opening she needed to knock his gun fully out of his grasp and land a very nimble high kick straight to his completely unguarded throat. When he went down choking, she knocked his weapon away and turned to a room half-full of unconscious bodies, and the other half consisting of people in various stages of shock and awe as they stared at her. 

Forcing down a very inappropriately timed blush at the attention, she looked over as a man in a red helmet finished the job of knocking out the armed group’s leader and snugly tightened zip ties around his wrists. If he pulled them slightly too tight, well, Marinette wouldn’t tell anyone. The helmeted man stood up then, crossing his arms and looking down at Marinette. She wriggled a bit under his gaze. 

He was Red Hood, another vigilante and someone she seriously respected. The fact that he was much more experienced in the whole hero thing than she was really didn’t help the intimidation she was feeling with him just looking down at her silently like that. She fidgeted again. 

“Uhhh… hi?” 

She heard a sigh come from behind the helmet, and the guy made a show of rubbing his forehead. 

“So. Not an assassin, but still a badass. Why am I not surprised?” She heard him grumble too lowly for anyone else to hear. She just blinked, utterly confused. 

“Umm, huh?” 

“Ignore him,” Robin said as he came over, giving Marinette a quick visual inspection. “You’ll have a mark on your forehead, but you look fine. Anything hurt?” 

“No, but I still want to punch something,” she admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck. “My class, though—they need to be seen. At least half of them were having panic attacks, some are probably still in shock. The sooner they’re taken care of and at the hotel the better. I think I saw Ivan accidentally making his palms bleed,” she explained easily. 

“Yeah,” Red Robin agreed gruffly, making Marinette slightly jump. She hadn’t seen him walk over. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re still oddly calm about all this.” 

Marinette just shrugged and offered a lopsided grin. “It’ll sink in eventually and I’ll probably cry myself to sleep, but I’m used to keeping my emotions in check. I won’t break down for a while yet,” she admitted. Her eyes strayed briefly back to the corpse laying in a puddle of blood as the cops came in and started to drape it in a white cloth. “Probably,” she amended once she was able to tear her eyes away. “But, uh, maybe I should go outside. I feel sick.” 

She had seen corpses before. The floating bodies or the ones pinned underwater by debris during Syren’s attack. The people crushed by the chunks of rock Gigantitan knocked over while stumbling around the city. She wouldn’t throw up at the sight anymore, even if this corpse was the bloodiest she’d ever seen and the only one killed by bullets. 

But the thought that she couldn’t reverse it? The knowledge that that man would never come back to life? _That_ made her stomach turn with guilt. Her dinner from earlier almost seemed to rot in her stomach, and sure enough, as soon as the three vigilantes led her and her class outside, she vomited into a bush. 

“I hate to say it,” Robin’s voice came from behind her, his nonchalance doing nothing to hide the subtle concern in his tone from his soulmate. “But welcome to Gotham.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNINGS: Gun violence, mention of panic attacks and shock, mention of death. If there are any triggers I missed, please notify me and I will update this list ASAP.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still don’t know pacing

After Marinette was done emptying her stomach, she accepted a towel from one of the EMTs on site and wiped her mouth, rinsing it out with the water bottle also handed to her and taking a deep breath. The three vigilantes were still there, giving a brief report to the commissioner, who had escalated the situation earlier because of protocol. Marinette knew better than to be mad though, knowing he had done exactly what he should have had there not been such a thing as vigilantes. 

Robin saw her recover, his gaze not really moving from her too often to begin with. He nodded to her once, a subtle jerk of his head asking if she wanted to join him and the other heroes. She shrugged and headed over. She knew she would have to give her own statement anyway, and the commissioner had already stated he wanted to talk to her personally. 

The older man’s eyes lit up a bit in relief when he saw her, the softness in them relaxing something in Marinette. She gave him a lopsided smile. 

“Hello. I’m commissioner Gordon, it’s nice to meet you. Although it would have been better under different circumstances,” he greeted politely. Marinette had to do her best to keep her eyes from straying to the ambulance that she knew held the corpse. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” she introduced back, taking his hand in a brief bit firm shake. “I’m assuming you need my statement now?” 

Soft eyes scanned hers, then flitted over to the vigilantes standing silently behind her for a second. “Only if you feel up to it,” he assured gently. “You were in a more precarious situation than any of the others, I understand if you need time to process and rest,” he was saying, but Marinette began to shake her head before he was even done speaking. 

“I’m fine, Commissioner. I knew what I was risking when I decided to comfort Lila, the classmate who started having a panic attack, but I rather be the one in the dangerous position than sit back and let anyone else get hurt. Especially for something they can’t fully control,” Marinette let a little wry grin curl her lips. “This isn’t actually my first time being held hostage, just the first time guns were ever involved. France is much nicer than America in that respect, at the least. Not nearly so many firearms to worry about.” 

Gordon snorted his agreement, and nodded over to a bench. “At least sit down, you’ve had a long day. And then we can start from the moment the bastards stormed in.” 

Marinette’s nodded, turning to follow the commissioner. 

_ “Cough once if you want us to pick you up after your statement,”  _ Robin’s voice quietly filtered through their still active bond. Marinette coughed once. She didn’t think she would be getting a lot of comfort from her classmates, who were all silent or seeking comfort from their closest friend. She didn’t want to bother Alix, who was with Ivan and Kim. Besides, comfort wasn’t exactly what she needed right now. Not from them. If Chloe had been there, or Luka or Kagami, then she would have stuck to their side like glue— or like a koala, with how much hugging there was likely to be. But Marinette had become more closed off with her class over the years, and right then she just wanted some understanding silence. 

Twenty minutes later found her, after a brief talk between Red Robin and Madam Bustier, on top of a rooftop with the three vigilantes. They had been really subtle about it, and she was pretty sure Bustier expected them to only escort her home. She knew the teacher wouldn’t check the hotel room when they got back, so she wasn’t really in any hurry. 

The air was mostly silent that high up, onto the faint drone of usual city noise perforating the atmosphere. 

“So,” Red Hood began conversationally. “Nightwing and Robin filled us all in on the Paris situation. Is that how you were able to remain so calm?” He asked, getting an elbow from Red Robin for being insensitive. To their surprise though, Marinette just chuckled. 

“Unfortunately,” she responded with a grin. “Paris is a lot different than here, though, which I think my class forgot until tonight. They’re too used to everything bad being reversed by Ladybug,” she admitted, tilting her head back to look up at the sky. “I’m the only person in my class who has never been Akumatized. But for some reason, a lot of Akumas seem to be centered around me,” she closed her eyes and sighed. “I caused one on accident, when I snuck out to spend time with my friends instead of my Grandma who had come to visit and had a whole bunch of things planned. Her hurt from my decision got her Akumatized into a witch who tried to kill me,” she explained. “My dad got Akumatized once, and locked me up in a literal tower to protect me— that one was a bit weird,” she snorted again. “A classmate of mine got Akumatized after I rejected him. That one was… creepy. He forced me on a date and everything,” her nose wrinkled up. “I’ve become pretty careful about how I treat people, even more so than I already was,” she confessed. “Anything can set off negative emotions strong enough to get someone Akumatized. The only time I came close to getting possessed, my teacher pushed me out of the way and got Akumatized instead. That one was probably one of the most bizarre of the attacks,” she shuddered at the memory. “The worst part is that kids are actually the most at risk. I’ve had kids get Akumatized while I was babysitting them on several occasions, just because I didn’t let them stay up late or keep a toy they wanted. And—” 

“Marinette, you’re rambling,” Robin interrupted gently. His voice made the girl open her eyes, and sit up straight from where she had been leaning back against the wall of the roof. 

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I’m just— he can’t come back.” 

“No, he can’t,” Red Robin agreed, the man plopping down to sit a few feet from her. Robin was still standing about a foot to Marinette’s right, keeping watch over everything. Red hood had actually been the first to sit down, legs out straight in front of him. He was to Marinette’s left. All three men knew exactly who Marinette meant when she said ‘he’, and focused on her as they prepared for the breakdown. 

“I just— I don’t get it,” she started, staring down at her clenched fists as her eyebrows pulled down low over her eyes. “I’ve seen people die before. It happens a lot in Paris, surprisingly. One time, when a girl was Akumatized into a mermaid monster and flooded the whole city, I didn’t quite get to a high enough roof on time. I had to swim for a bit, straight through—“ she took a deep breath before continuing. “Straight through so many bodies. Only about a couple thousand people out of all of Paris survived that attack, but Ladybug won and everything was fixed. Nobody remembers dying. The survivors are the ones in therapy, and everyone else is confused as to why. But it wasn’t her fault. She was manipulated, used, brainwashed. I get that. I don’t blame her, nobody who understands the situation blames her for it. It’s all on HawkMoth. But this— today—“ she couldn’t help it, she swung one arm out and punched the short wall next to her. A few chips of brick broke off from the force. “She was a grown woman in her right mind, she wasn’t under magic and she took  _ pride— _ I saw her eyes, she enjoyed it— she  _ enjoyed _ killing him. She felt no remorse, she didn’t hesitate, as if she had been  _ waiting _ for the chance to murder. And I can’t understand that. I’ll never understand that.  _ That’s  _ what made me sick. The thought that somebody can just  _ not care,”  _ Marinette’s next laugh was wet, and she could feel the warm tracks of tears down her cheeks. “Maybe that’s naive of me. Maybe I’m too idealistic. But I just can’t understand. I’m so used to understanding, sympathizing, knowing exactly why people do things. But I can’t. I can’t do that here—or maybe I can. Maybe the answer is  _ just because she wanted to _ , and it sickens me.” 

“Good,” Red Hood was the one that spoke up, his tone level and serious. “That makes you better than most of us. But you can’t let it keep you down. You can’t let it change who you are. Not understanding isn’t a weakness, it’s a strength. It means you’re that much less likely of ever becoming like her.” 

Marinette took a deep breath again, letting her shoulders relax. “Maybe,” she agreed softly. “But I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to beat someone into a pulp as much as I did right after she shot him. I’m not typically a very violent person, but,” she looked over at the damage she caused to the wall next to her and wrinkled her nose with a small, self-deprecating grin. “I still have my moments.” 

“... that high kick sated some of it, I hope,” Robin spoke up finally. Marinette looked up at him, and immediately frowned. His body language was much more withdrawn than when they first arrived at the roof and she didn’t know why. Was it something she said? “Any harder and you would have crushed his windpipe.” 

“Yeah!” Red hood perked up again. “That was a thing of beauty! Perfect disarm of the bastard’s gun, too. A bit improvised, but very well done. Who taught you?” 

Marinette rubbed the back of her neck shyly, letting out an embarrassed laugh.  _ Years of spontaneous practice,  _ she thought sarcastically. Aloud she said; “Not long after the Akuma attacks started, my mom decided I needed to learn self defense. She has three black belts, believe it or not, and took it upon herself to teach me,” Marinette told them. It wasn’t even a lie, though her mom had taken almost two years before starting to teach Marinette. “My dad is usually the one people expect to be the dangerous one. He’s huge and being a baker has given him some serious muscle,” she explained with a fond smile. “But whenever we have a rowdy customer? It’s not my dad that scares them off, I can assure you.” 

All three of them chuckled or smiled a bit at that. Marinette stood up, stretching her arms and looking over the rooftops longingly. She still had energy to work out, adrenaline that hadn’t quite faded, but she figured going freerunning after everything that had just happened was probably not the best idea. Instead, she turned to Robin. 

“Okay,” She wiped her face to clear any lingering tears and offered him a surprisingly bright smile for the kind of day she’d had. Robin found himself blinking at it. “Enough sobbing! I think I’m ready to go back to the hotel now,” she told him, earning a nod. Narrowing her eyes at his closed off mannerisms, she turned her head to the other two heroes, who had already stood up. “Can Robin take me back on his own? I don’t want to keep you guys from your patrols any longer than I already have.” 

The two red-themed heroes shared a glance before shrugging. “We’ll be nearby,” Red Robin replies first. “But Robin’s not a kid anymore, so it should be fine.” 

“Besides, we know better than to get in between soulmates,” Red hood added, swinging his arms to warm them up. “Just remember, we are all hooked up to the comms so if you’re gonna do anything, please shut them off fir—“ 

The helmeted hero was forced to duck under a katana swipe that nearly took his head off, Robin growling. 

“Don’t be lewd!” He snapped, sliding his sword back into the sheath on his back. Marinette, poor girl, was overtaken with laughter. 

She just laughed, new tears breaking out of the corner of her eyes from the force of the laughs. “W-we’ve barely known each other for a d-day!” She choked out between guffaws. “Oh god, it’s barely been twenty-four hours. What even  _ is _ my life?” She stood up, getting control of herself and rubbing her forehead. She patted Robin’s arm in a show of confidence trust honestly surprised Red Robin and Red Hood. 

Then again, the two of them had grown up believing that Damian’s soul mate would either be just as bloodthirsty as him, or scared off by him in less than five seconds. So. Marinette was honestly turning their whole worldviews topsy turvy. Her smile, wide and open and bright, contrasted Robin’s straightfaced brooding as he grunted and held a hand out to Marinette. She had just had one good, emotional rant before going completely sunny and energetic again. 

And honestly? The two older heroes didn’t know whether that fact worried or impressed them more. If she hadn’t already admitted to being used to suppressing her emotions, they would have just figured it out. 

—*—*—*—*—*

“Are you okay?” Marinette asked when they reached her hotel room, turning on the lights for him after they climbed through the window together. The boy in question raised an eyebrow over his domino mask, crossing his arms. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

The pigtailed girl rolled her eyes, gently setting her purse down on the couch in the room. Wayne had sprung to get everyone full blown suites for their month-long stay. Something about it being more comfortable for such a long trip. 

It also softened the blow of everyone having to sign waivers for the trip. It was the reason Marinette knew the trip wouldn’t be canceled over the robbery mess at GothCorp. Everyone and their parents agreed that they would not cancel the whole trip if crime occurred around the students but none of them were hurt, though they could pull out individual students if they were injured or the parents were  _ that _ worried. 

“Ever since my little rant,” she started, Robin’s eyes narrowing at her downplay of what had happened. “You’ve been more closed off and subtly avoiding me. Did I say something insulting?” 

Robin blinked, surprised she had caught it. “You could have waited until we slept to ask me,” he pointed out. One delicate eyebrow raised, blue eyes staring into his own green ones flatly. 

“Oh yeah? Would you have gone to sleep at all tonight?” She asked. “Or would you have avoided me?” 

Robin remained silent, making Marinette nod. 

“It was…” Robin paused, thinking over what he wanted to say. “Red Hood has killed a lot of people,” he said instead, making his soulmate blink slowly at the rapid subject change. She tilted her head slowly, and then nodded knowing that Red Hood wasn’t the actual subject there. 

“Yes… My research told me a bit about that, though it was pretty vague,” she admitted slowly. “But he doesn’t anymore.” 

“He still uses guns.” 

“Okay, Robin,” she sighed and sat down on the couch next to her bag heavily. “But Red Hood is still a hero now. He spends his nights fighting crime. Do I condone killing? Obviously not. But he’s trying to be a good person, and that’s what matters to me. He doesn’t confuse me like the girl earlier did.” 

“Oh,” Robin said softly, unable to look away from her for a long moment. She just smiled back at him calmly, not knowing why her soulmate had needed to hear those words from her but somehow feeling like she understood anyway. Robin used a sword, and it was clear he was a master of it. It wasn’t a stretch to assume he might have killed before. “I see. Well, I’ll leave now. We will see each other again in a short while anyway.” 

“Of course,” she agreed, still with that soft smile that Robin couldn’t quite look away from on her face. “See you in the Mindspace.” 

Robin didn’t respond, just jumping out of her window. 

“He seems nice,” Tikki’s voice piped up, making Marinette look over to her Kwami floating in the air a few feet away with a sly smile on her face. Marinette felt her cheeks heat up. 

“H-he is…” 

“You did good today, Marinette,” Tikki praises, patting her wielder’s hand with her own tiny one. “And not just with the attack. You did good with your Soulmate, I think he’s the kind that will need to be confronted about his emotions. He won’t talk about them first,” the Kwami informed the teen, who nodded and got ready for a much needed shower before bed. 

“I know. I don’t even know how I know. It’s partly his body language, or his word choice, and I have gotten pretty good at reading people. But…” Marinette just shrugged. “I guess part of me just knows what I need to do.” 

Tikki laughed. “Ah, to be young and soul-bonded~” Tikki teased. 

“Tikkiiiiiii!” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I still don’t know pacing, and we have a slight time skip for Plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick; thank you Constance_Truggle for pointing this out. I forgot to mention this last chapter, but Damian DID shut off Audio Only Mode while Marinette was giving her statement. So no Tikki reveal yet, sorry XD 
> 
> Also, Original Akuma towards the end.

Back at the Batcave, Robin was the first to change, sit through debrief, and go to sleep. Nobody questioned him, knowing full well his motives. The other vigilantes however, despite being back in their civvies, were not so quick to end the night. 

“You all heard that, right?” Jason asked. Oracle, also known as Barbara Gordon, rolled her eyes. She backed up in her wheelchair and turned to face everyone else. 

“What, the part where Marinette made you coo when she essentially defended you and said she still thought of you as a good person?” 

Jason rolled his eyes. “I mean yeah, that part was pretty nice. But I’m talking about everything she said about Paris,” the man clarified, leaning back in a chair so that the front two legs lifted off the ground. “She was geared and ready to continue listing examples of Akumas. I doubt she even listed  _ half _ of the ones that were centered around or targeting her. And having to go through  _ all _ of her classmates becoming villains, even temporarily?” He shook his head. “That kinda shit doesn’t leave anybody unaffected.” 

“Especially what she said about the mermaid monster Akuma,” Tim agreed, pulling up a story on the computer. “I’ve pulled up the reports from both the Ladyblog and the AkumaWatch app. They seem to agree on everything, so I think this was back when the Ladyblog was still reliable,” he pulled up a video taken by the girl who ran the Ladyblog, Alya Cesaire. Marinette’s former best friend and current classmate. The commentary was all in French, but Tim had went ahead and added quick English subtitles for everyone. The wonders of having a supercomputer. The video was taken from a high roof, and showed the water flowing so high that it completely covered most buildings. It would have definitely caused enough pressure to break open windows and fill those buildings on the inside too. 

“Woah! It looks like they can transform!” The voice of the reporter said in French, pointing to the distance where two blues of red and black hopped onto a building. The girl zoomed in, her phone’s camera just barely able to show an out-of-focus Ladybug and Chat Noir with different patterns to their uniforms and fins. The cat-themed hero managed to pull an entire car, and as they soon sound out, temporary supervillain Syren, out of the water all on his own. “Aqua suits! That’s so cool!” 

It was obvious, however, that the girl’s voice shook a bit. She kept the camera purposely pointed as high up as she could while still catching the heroes and the destruction of the possessed item on screen. There were blurred images all across the surface of the water, which the heroes knew to be censored bodies. 

“Only a couple thousand out of two million Parisians survived, that’s what Marinette said,” Barbara breathed, eyes wide. “Seeing it like this really makes it all real,” she clenched her jaw. They all continued watching as what was simply dubbed as Ladybug’s Miracle swept through the city in a shockwave o ladybugs, and the water disappeared. They watched as Alya aimed the camera down and caught very alive people popping up in the streets or on top of cars, wherever they had been right before getting carried away by the vicious waves. 

Every hero in the Cave saw people of all ages down there, shimmering back to life. From month-old babies to old men and women. 

It was both wonderful and horrifying. 

After the video ended, the entire cave was silent for a long moment. Jason was the one that spoke up, to no one's surprise. 

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ He growled, no longer leaning back in his chair. Both of his fists were clenched. “This has been on the internet for almost three years! How did we not see this before? How did we never know?” He asked, to which nobody had an answer. But the Bat himself had a hand on his chin as he studied the freeze-frame that the video ended on. Chat Noir and Ladybug fist-bumping. 

“Maybe,” Bruce said slowly, as if tasting the words. “It’s time one of us visits the Paris branch of Wayne Enterprises. Ladybug and Chat Noir have been protecting the city for almost four years, it’s likely they know something about why the news hasn’t spread,” he mused. “Meanwhile, I will look into the League records. I never heard about a supposed prank call from France, meaning another piece of the puzzle is there.” 

“There’s a problem with that though,” Tim pointed out. “Paris is essentially being held emotionally hostage. Anyone we send will have to be extremely capable of pushing down their negative emotions or transforming them into something positive. The last thing Paris’s heroes need is a supervillain with years of combat experience. Besides that, HawkMoth can telepathically communicate with his Akumatized villains. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that he can read their minds.” 

“So not only would Paris’s heroes have to fight someone much more experienced than them, but our identities would be exposed,” Dick completed the thought, arms crossed. “That rules out Jason or Damian for sure. Which of us would be the most capable of avoiding strong negative emotions?” 

When the First Robin looked up, it was to a raised eyebrow from his adoptive father and three fingers pointing straight at him from his brothers and Barbara. 

“We can set up a flight for you for the day after tomorrow,” Bruce said with a grin that seemed way too smug for Dick, who was still gaping at everyone in betrayal. “Ask for the time off, okay? I can smooth things over if you need me to.” 

“Oh, come on!” Dick threw his hands up. “I can be broody and mean!” 

He was thoroughly ignored as everyone left to sleep for the night. 

“Guys! You know what, fine, Paris is a gorgeous city. It’ll be like a vacation! Oh my god I just proved them right.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

That night in the Mindspace was… well, Marinette’s insomnia reared its head and she entered it around three AM to find a very unamused Robin waiting for her. 

“Honestly?” He asked, gesturing to the Tv screen. “You couldn’t have put some of the work off for tomorrow?” 

Suddenly Marinette was very glad she didn’t talk to Tikki while working on her dress. The little Kwami had passed right out after the stressful day they both had. 

“I have trouble sleeping sometimes,” she admitted shyly, shifting from foot to foot. “Sewing helps me relax. I want to be a fashion designer,” she explained, letting a soft smile overtake her lips. “I’m actually making my own dress for the Wayne charity gala at the end of the month.”

Robin’s eyebrows shot up over his domino mask. Once again, he was in his normal pajamas besides the mask that he donned after entering the mindspace. “Really? That’s pretty ambitious,” he told her, eyes going back to the screen. Then again, the snippets that he saw on the screen looked incredibly well done. Marinette’s face twisted up a bit in apprehension. 

“Maybe a little,” she conceded. “But I’ve designed for Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale. Even Gabriel Agreste and Audrey Bourgeois have asked for me to collaborate with them for a few pieces. Jagged and Clara commission me pretty often nowadays, and Jagged is a lot like an uncle to me now. I also design for local newscasters and other minor celebrities around town, and my best friend’s band Kitty Section,” She rambled, getting more passionate as she went. Robin actually found himself pretty impressed. The elder Agreste and Bourgeois both were notoriously hard to please names in the fashion industry, so to gain not just one but  _ both  _ of their attention and respect was a huge accomplishment. 

“Perhaps I was incorrect then,” Robin amended. “With a portfolio like that, designing for the Gala is just the next small step up. I will look forward to seeing what you create,” he said honestly. His soulmate blinked, obviously caught off guard, before blushing furiously. 

“Oh, uh, um, th-thank you!” She blinked again, the blush fading as she focused on the second meaning behind his words rather than just the flattery. “Wait, you’ll be at the gala?” 

Robin had to hold back a smile. “It  _ is _ a month away. I suspect by then you will have earned my identity. Soulmates tend to move faster than unbonded couples.” 

Marinette gaped again. “Well. Uh. Thank you? I think. Wanna spar?” 

It was Robin’s turn to be caught off guard. “Excuse me?” 

“Do you want to spar?” She repeated, speaking at a normal pace instead of a tongue-twisting one. “Part of the reason it took so long to fall asleep is the adrenaline. It didn’t, uh, completely fade yet. And I’m still a little angry, but not enough to be dangerous in a spar.” 

“I know,” Robin soothed, his calm tone a direct contrast to Marinette’s flustered rambling. “I felt the vibration when you were angry, both at GothCorp and on the roof when you punched the wall. You calmed down considerably fast, but the initial anger you felt at the woman lasted quite a while. It was very odd,” he tilted his head. “It left me very on edge. I cannot say I enjoyed it very much, but it was quite effective in getting the message across.” 

Marinette laughed, nodding. Her own buzz of warning from Robin earlier had been very brief and low, barely a blip on her radar but enough to be felt. He had most likely just been upset for a moment. Marinette, on the other hand, had been burning up with her own fury. 

“So, spar?” She asked again, smiling widely. “Maman says a good spar is one of the best ways to get to know a person,” she coaxed, leaning forward a bit. “Please?” 

Robin snorted, standing up and stretching his arms. “You did not need to plead, I was about to accept either way. I could perhaps benefit from a new sparring partner.” 

Marinette whooped, going to her half of the room. To her slight surprise, a new pink punching bag hung off to the side along with a few high bars for gymnastics. Taking a second, she turned to see that Robin’s own half of the mental world also had a few new additions. Weights, probably just for the familiarity of it, a few training dummies, and a punching bag of his own. 

_ Neat!  _ The girl thought excitedly, the last vestiges of anger draining away to be replaced by wonder.  _ Soulbonds are so cool!  _

Shaking her head, she walked around to her sewing station and thought for a second. Her pajamas weren’t exactly a good outfit for a spar. 

“Uh, how do we change clothes in here?” She asked, turning her head to look back at her soulmate. He, unsurprisingly, had already figured it out. The teen was now in exercise shorts and a perfectly fitting black tank top. 

Marinette’s brain momentarily fizzled out. 

_ Those arms! No, the legs! No, oh Kwami, I can see his abs. Shirts that tight should be illegal! Ohhh He has broad shoulders. Am I dead? I think I’m dead.  _

“Marinette? Are you listening?” The girl jumped, her object of torment suddenly standing with his arms crossed a few feet away. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, totally. Just, uh, zoned out for a second.” 

“Yeah,” he said with a raised eyebrow that just  _ screamed _ disbelief. “I was saying that you simply imagine yourself in the outfit you wish to wear. This world is molded by our minds, after all.” 

“Right. Easy. Got it,” Marinette nodded a little too fast, closing her eyes and imagining her usual exercise clothes. Black basketball shorts trimmed in red and a red tank top shone into existence, replacing her pink-and-white polka-dotted pajamas. Her hair, which was down from her taking out her pigtails before bed, was up in a messy bun on the back of her head. Once down, she opened her eyes and gasped in joy. She turned to look at herself in the full length mirror next to her sewing station. 

Behind her, she had unknowingly left her soulmate in a situation he was wholly unaccustomed to. 

_ Perhaps I should have expected this,  _ he thought sluggishly, feeling really caught off guard. His mind flashed to the memory of her punch splintering odd a few shards of solid brick.  _ But her arms didn’t look that toned in her blouse earlier. Then again, she was wearing long sleeves,  _ he had to stubbornly keep his eyes respectfully above the hips. He knew if he didn’t, his gaze would linger far too long on her muscular thighs.  _ Turn away. You are being indecent _ he scolded himself, deciding to retreat to the sparring mat first. 

After a second to recover from having caught Robin staring at her in the mirror—  _ well, we ARE soulmates. It would be awkward if the attraction wasn’t mutual— _ Marinette joined him. Seeing as their bodies were not actually physical at the moment, they could skip stretching. Any hits they took would hurt momentarily to simulate the real world, but no actual damage would be taken. 

“Ready?” She asked first, receiving a predatory grin in response. 

“Are you?” 

They both stood at the ready, their legs braced shoulder width apart and their arms tended but at the ready. To his shock, Marinette moved first. 

The petite girl lunged, a very familiar high kick brushing uncomfortably close to Robin’s nose as he side-stepped the strike and attempted to grab her ankle. Marinette pulled her leg back too quickly, though, easily going right back into a defensive stance. Robin took the moment to get in close, aiming rapid punches at Marinette’s chest and torso. The girl proved to be just as flexible as she was strong, however, twisting around the wider strikes and batting away the ones she couldn’t avoid with her open palm. Each blocked punch sent a sharp sting through her hand, letting her know in no uncertain terms that she could not let even a single of his hits land. 

The second Marinette saw an opening, she grabbed Robin’s bicep and heaved him over her hip. Instead of hitting the mat hard though, the seasoned vigilante tucked into a roll and popped right back up, leaping straight back at his soulmate. One of her punches glanced off his shoulder, forcing him to quickly recover his footing before he stumbled. 

_ There’s that strength she showed earlier _ he noted.  _ If that had been a direct hit, she might have dislocated my shoulder.  _

Robin leapt over Marinette’s head, slamming one knee up towards her back. The smaller teen was able to avoid a direct kit, but Robin’s knee still managed to clip right under her left rib cage. Instantly, she felt herself gasp for air.  _ Mon dieu, that’s ridiculous!  _ She thought, quickly hand-springing back to gain some distance as she caught her breath.  _ My body gets a little sturdier outside the suit the longer I use the Ladybug Miraculous, but if he had hit me straight on I would have been down!  _

Both teen heroes were already slightly out of breath, staring at each other from opposite sides of the mat. They didn’t notice right away, but they each had the same breathless smile overtaking their face. They jumped back in towards each other at the same time. 

Their spar was a flurry of punches and high-kicks, flips and ankle-swipes. They landed hits and got hit. Marinette got hit less often than Robin, purely due to her acrobatics and flexibility, but Robin’s tolerance for punishment was leagues (ha, bad joke) higher than Marinette’s. Even though he took more hits, he was in better shape than she was. Therefore, even though each of their strikes carried roughly the same force, it was clear Marinette was the one slowly losing ground. Marinette didn’t have her indestructible suit or enhanced abilities to help her out, at least not beyond what prolonged use of the Ladybug enhanced, but she was holding her own very well despite it. 

It was almost twenty minutes —the mindspace making normal stamina levels irrelevant— before Marinette finally managed to grapple Robin and send them both tumbling onto the mat. They wrestled for a long moment, finding their physical strengths almost matched, before Robin finally managed to wrap his arm around Marinette’s throat and pin her legs with his own. 

They were both gasping for breath by that point and, even though she lost, Marinette found herself laughing in glee. Robin’s grip loosened briefly before he completely let go, unwinding himself from her and standing up. He didn’t laugh like she did, but he was grinning widely and let out a few soft chuckles. He extended his hand down to his still-giggling soulmate, who grabbed on and allowed him to help her up. 

“That was great!” She gushed. “I mean, sure, it stinks that I lost. But I’ll get you next time!” 

“I fear you might not be wrong,” Robin admitted with another soft chuckle. “Not all of that was martial arts,” he said, clearly questioning her fighting style casually. Marinette rubbed the back of her head sheepishly. 

“Ah, yeah. I took gymnastics as a kid. And my friend Kagami has been trying to teach me how to fence, but I just end up using those movements in melee instead. I’m  _ okay _ with a foil, but I’m nowhere near the best. Kagami says I’m a natural, but I think she’s just sparing my feelings. And, uh, the whole parkour thing I mentioned.” 

“Right. Parkour,” Robin agreed with a nod that Marinette knew meant he didn’t believe her but wouldn’t push. For now. 

Marinette’s lips slowly widened into a devilish grin. “Hey, do you play Ultimate Mecha Strike Five?” She asked slyly, and Robin narrowed his eyes through his mask. 

“Why do I feel like agreeing would be a mistake?” 

“That’s a yes!” Marinette cackled and dragged Robin over to his couch. “Come on, let’s play!” 

Seeing as both of the were asleep and their other senses inaccessible through the Tv, it allowed them to load the game. Surprisingly enough, Robin actually put up a decent fight. 

Unsurprisingly, Marinette still won. Five times in a row. 

“Alright,” Robin put his controller down, glancing over at an all too smug Marinette, crossing his arms. “Let's recap; I’ve discovered the situation in Paris is bleaker than I thought, you are surprisingly strong for your frame, you are much better of a fighter than you let on, and you have a vengeful streak.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette cooed, her hand over her chest as she fluttered her eyelashes with false innocence. Robin just deadpanned at her. “I am completely innocent! An angel! I would  _ never  _ stoop to petty revenge over losing a spar!” 

“Uh huh,” Robin said blandly. “Let’s revisit this argument when you decide to be more truthful, ‘ _ Angel’ _ .” 

“Anytime, birdboy.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Thankfully, the next few days weren’t as hectic as the first twenty-four hours. Robin did have school and vigilante business to see to, so he and Marinette only met in their Mindspace for the rest of the week. Which wasn’t bad, even on nights when one or the other stayed up so late that they only had three or four hours in the mental world. Somehow, despite their brains remaining constantly active, the magic is the soulbond always left them more refreshed when they awoke than they would normally feel after that amount of sleep. And Marinette had her own things to do with her class, which included a brief (and very therapeutic) two-day visit to Metropolis since it wasn’t far away, to broaden the sights they could see. When they got back, they had one full rest day where they and a buddy could visit anywhere they wanted, provided they stayed within three blocks of the hotel and called to check in with Bustier every two hours. 

The class, used to recovering from terrifying circumstances, had almost completely recovered (as much as could be expected, anyway) from their GothCorp nightmare by the time they returned from Metropolis. Lila had quietly thanked Marinette the day after the attempted robbery, but followed the thanks with a threat to never make her look weak again. 

So, suffice to say, the liar was back to her usual tricks after the brief reprieve of the Metropolis visit as well. Milder than usual, sure, but still back to normal. 

Meanwhile, Richard Grayson had seemingly spontaneously asked for vacation time in order to help his adoptive father out with company business in Paris. He landed in the City of Lights the same day that the Parisians got back into Gotham. He quickly realized that this trip would take more than just a few days. In fact it wasn’t until Friday, exactly one week after Damian had met his Soulmate, that Dick found the ability to track down the Parisian heroes. 

Akuma alert sirens rang all around the city, confirming for the experienced hero that the natives had gotten accustomed to the constant havoc. Those who had been around since the beginning of the Akuma terror ran towards shelters with practiced speed. 

It was the perfect distraction for Dick to change into Nightwing and take to the rooftops. Upon reaching the Eiffel Tower, the blue clad hero saw a bizarre scene. A male dressed in an aqua colored, snake-themed uniform and a petite female in a red, black, and gold uniform with a spiral down one leg were facing off against… 

A… Giant… Cat lady...

Not even a giant half-cat person. She was a legitimate fifteen-foot tall old lady in classic Cat Lady attire. Knitted cat-embroidered shawl, cat-eared knitted beanie, a crochet needle that she was using to hypnotize cats and change their size and species. Her skin was bright orange with shiny silver tiger stripes, and her face had giant black glasses in the shape of a domino mask. 

It was really, really weird. She had two twenty-foot panthers and a lion that was half the size of the Eiffel Tower growling at the two heroes who, surprisingly, didn’t look very affected at all by the fever dream they were facing. Smaller house cats were all slinking out of the nearby streets to ominously surround the two heroes, their eyes all glowing bright gold. 

“You know, Chat would be making so many puns right now,” The red hero, Ryujo if Dick remembered correctly, mused as the two analyzed their options. 

“He would also be making a lot of ‘family shouldn’t fight’ jokes,” the surprisingly zen male replied, flipping up and out of the way onto a nearby roof. “This should be easy, but I will provide backup if you need it.” 

“Don’t worry Viperion, I got this,” Ryuko brushed off. “Water dragon!” 

The hero turned into water before Nightwing’s eyes, swirling around the square. The water scared off the smaller cats, and the lion recoiled slightly, but it and the panthers lunged anyway, trying to catch the stream of water. The floating river easily avoided every strike, winding around the old lady’s crochet needle when they weren’t looking and snapping it in half. 

A purple butterfly, exactly like those Dick had seen in the videos he and the others watched as research and exactly how Marinette had described them, fluttered out of the broken object. A quick flash of yellow darted onto the scene, a bee-themed woman carrying an ornate pot with Chinese engravings on it flew over and trapped the butterfly in the pot. 

“There!” She said triumphantly, smiling wide. The crazy cat woman faded away, shrinking down into a cute little, completely normal, old lady with her gray hair in a high bun. 

“Oh dear,” she brought a hand to her cheek. “Where am I? What happened?” 

Nightwing watched as the heroes comforted the victim, watching as Queen Bee and Viperion left in one direction and Ryuko, whose choker had started beeping, left in another. 

He followed the two paired up heroes. 

—*—*—*—*—*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot plot plotty plot
> 
> A little fluff
> 
> P L O T  
> L . . . O  
> O . . . L  
> T O L P

It was around nine in the morning on Friday, just as the class was sitting in the mall food court eating breakfast and listening to Madam Bustier talk about their first day of attending Gotham Academy on Monday, that Marinette’s phone rang. Wincing, she pulled out her phone to see that it was a call from Chloe. 

The same Chloe who knew her schedule and the time difference by heart, and only called Marinette when she knew her shorter friend would be free. Looking up, the Asian girl saw the eyes of her entire class on her, most of them annoyed at the interruption. 

“Sorry, Madam Bustier. My parents are calling, it’s probably important,” Marinette lied. The little lies were becoming easier and easier. The teacher just sighed and waved her off. 

“Go take it off to the side then, and come back right away.” 

“Of course. I’ll go to the restroom so I don’t bother anyone,” Marinette said quickly, answering the call and running off to where she had said she would go. 

“what’s up, Chlo?” 

“Just Super Cat Lady again,” the blond said with a sigh. The old lady had first become an Akuma a few months earlier, when kids wouldn’t stop making fun of her having ten cats. Since then, this appearance would make the fifth Akumatization for the poor old woman. “But this time her giant cats caused a bit of a mess, and there’s still the Akuma to purify. Think you can escape for a few minutes?” 

Marinette made a face. “It’ll be a bit of a stretch,” she looked down at her watch. “But I can make it if I’m fast. Where’s the Akuma?” 

“I got it. We’re heading to the hideout.” 

“I’ll meet you there,” Marinette promised, hanging up before opening her purse and releasing the red Kwami inside. Quickly taking out a glasses case, she put the shades inside on her face and revealed a second tiny god. “Okay Tikki, Kaalki. Let’s do this. Spots on! Merge!” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Nightwing landed right in front of the two surprisingly fast heroes right as Queen Bee put away her phone. A phone that looked suspiciously like one of her stingers. The two individuals stopped in their tracks, and it wasn’t until he was standing there with the two of them only feet away that Nightwing noticed it. 

Maybe it was the magic of the artifacts that gave them their powers that prevented the observation from being made by watching recordings, but it was plain as day in person. 

Both heroes were young. Queen Bee couldn’t have been older than Damian. 

And, as a portal opened up and none other than Ladybug stepped through— neither could she. Ladybug could be no older than seventeen at max, meaning that she couldn’t have been older than fourteen when she started out as Paris’s primary hero. 

Nightwing’s jaw clenched. That wasn’t right. Every source they found showed Ladybug as the leader of the Parisian heroes. They showed her making plans, taking down Akumas, wrapping up loose ends. It was always Ladybug who steered the fight. 

And she was a _child._

At least the Titans always had backup if they needed it, and nowadays were led by actual adults. They also never faced world ending threats, especially by themselves. 

“ _Nightwing?”_ Ladybug gasped, making said blue-clad hero narrow his eyes. Why was that voice familiar? She shook her head as if to clear it. “What are you doing out of Gotham? Oh, give me a second!” 

Viperion, the only of the trio of heroes to show no reaction to the appearance of the older vigilante, opened the Chinese-carved pot and released the Akuma trapped within. In the span of two seconds, Ladybug had trapped and purified the butterfly and reversed the mess the giant cats had caused with her Miracle ability. 

Nightwing watched all this with wide eyes, trailing the last of the magical ladybugs as they disappeared. He let loose a whistle of appreciation before turning back to the heroes. “I came because me, Batman, and the others are concerned about why we never knew about the situation here in Paris,” he explained. “I was the least likely to get Akumatized out of all of us, so they sent me here,” he clutched his heart dramatically with one hand. “Against my will!” 

The blond hero deadpanned at him, not amused. Viperion, on the other hand, grinned and Ladybug actually snorted. Nightwing quickly got serious again, crossing his arms. 

“We just want to understand this whole situation better before we decide how we want to help. We know all of us coming to help you fight wouldn’t be a good idea. We are good at hiding our emotions, but actually controlling them is different. Also,” he pointed to Ladybug. “Do you always teleport? Because most of the videos we’ve seen show you swinging with your yo-yo.” 

Ladybug shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Ah, no. I’m actually not in town, in my civilian identity anyway, so I have to use a second Miraculous to teleport here in order to reverse damage.” 

Nightwing nodded, a hand on his chin. “So you can reverse damage whenever you want? And can anybody use more than two Miraculous at once?” 

“For the first question, no,” Ladybug answered, hands on her hips. “I have one year to reverse any damage caused by a Miraculous or the extension of that miraculous’ powers. But when it comes to damage _not_ created by a Miraculous, I can only reverse it if I am already transformed as Ladybug before the damage is created,” she explained. “Even then, I lose the ability to do anything anymore once I detransform. And as for your second question— _technically._ Using more than one Miraculous creates a strain on the user though, so most people would only be able to use a maximum of three at a time before seriously hurting or killing themselves. The Miraculous are extremely powerful, nobody is meant to handle so much power by themselves,” she told the older hero gravely. “I have a higher tolerance than most, but even then I only use more than three in extremely serious situations.” 

Dick nodded, humming as he absorbed all that information. It made sense; Ladybug had a lot of power. Unlike people like Superman though, her power was kept in check by several rules and conditions. 

Right then, Ladybug’s earring started to beep and she gasped. “Mon dieu! I’ve been here too long. I need to head back before people get suspicious. It was nice meeting you, Nightwing! Queen Bee, Viperion, please answer his questions. Trust me on this. Kaalki, Merge! Full Gallop!” With a brief transformation and the summoning of a portal, Ladybug was gone. 

“Well,” Nightwing said after a long moment of silence. “You got a better place to talk?” 

Viperion and Queen Bee shared a glance, essentially communicating without words. It made the older hero grin. At least they could rely on their teammates and knew how to work together well. After a few seconds, Viperion nodded, and pointed straight down to indicate the building they were on top of. 

“This is an abandoned bakery. We have been using it as a base for the past year or so,” he explained before leading the way in. 

Inside was a mostly empty space, with a few battery-powered lamps and beanbags strewn everywhere along with a foldout table with a few papers scattered on it. Nightwing wasted no time plopping down on one of the beanbags. 

“What do you want to know?” The imperious Queen Bee asked, crossing her arms and staying standing up so that she could loom over the Gotham hero. 

“Anything you can tell me,” he responded easily. “I have seen a lot of videos and reports about theattacks themselves, and I know Ladybug and Chat Noir were the first Parisian heroes to show up to fight HawkMoth. Can you fill in what I don’t know?” 

The bee themed hero huffed. “Buzz off,” she said by way of both answering and de-transforming. Where Queen Bee once stood was now Chloe Bourgeois. She still stared down at Nightwing imperiously. “I’m the only one whose identity isn’t secret. That’s my own fault, from two years ago, but I don’t show up often anyway. Ladybug lets me keep the Bee Miraculous since… I’m not proud of it, but I used to be a bully. Because of that, there are a lot of people who have been Akumatized because of me before and could come after me again if they are re-Akumatized. Ladybug wants me to be able to protect myself if that happens. Other than that, I only show up if my ability is desperately needed or it’s a small job like trapping an Akuma for her to purify later,” Chloe explained. 

Nightwing furrowed his brows. “But you know each other’s identities, don’t you?” He asked. “So that you can call each other easily for backup and whatnot.” 

Chloe and Viperion both shook their heads. “Ladybug is very strict with the rule about secret identities,” the male told Nightwing calmly. “None of us are allowed to know who the other heroes are outside of the mask. The only exception is Chloe, since she told all of Paris her identity two years ago.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I was a brat,” the blonde admitted with a roll of her eyes and a dismissive wave of her hand. 

“Then… how did you all get your Miraculous?” Dick asked, genuinely confused now. “Did it just show up on your doorstep or something?” 

“Oh no,” Viperion denied with a snort. “All of us except for Chat Noir were chosen by Ladybug.” 

“So… she knows who all of _you_ are, but none of you know who _she_ is?” Nightwing asked for clarification, getting a nod from both heroes. 

“Except for me,” Chloe admitted. “Ladybug told me almost half a year ago. But it wasn’t exactly out of choice, she didn’t have enough time to transform before giving me the Bee Miraculous so that I could escape a dangerous situation with an Akuma. Once again, one that was specifically targeting me,” Chloe shrugged. “Ladybug gave me a potion that should help me hide my thoughts from anyone trying to read them. It isn’t guaranteed to be effective, but it’s better than nothing. She has also helped me a lot with meditation and just listening to me in general, so I’m way less likely to be Akumatized than before.” 

“Still,” Nightwing insisted. “Isn’t it a bit odd that your leader doesn’t trust you with her identity?” 

“Not really,” Viperion disagreed. “When someone is Akumatized, HawkMoth knows everything _they_ know. If one of us gets distracted while in our civilian identity, we can still get Akumatized. If that happened and we all knew one another’s identities, then _HawkMoth_ would know and we would all be in danger.” 

“Sure, I get that,” the blue-clad hero admitted. “But what if Ladybug gets Akumatized? She knows more than any of you, apparently.” 

“That can’t happen,” Chloe’s voice took on a sudden, very tense and sharp tone. “It’s very _possible_ , but it can’t be _allowed_ to happen _._ None of us worry about her knowing the most out of all of us, because if Ladybug is Akumatized then it’s all almost hopeless anyway.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The Ladybug is the only miraculous capable of purifying Akumas,” Viperion answered slowly. “The Ladybug Miracle is the only power than can completely reverse damage and death. My ability, Second Chance, can rewind time a little bit. The thing is, only I remember the original timeline. That means I have to be close enough to warn somebody against making a decision that hurt or killed them the first time around, and they have to trust me. Only Ladybug’s ability is a guaranteed happy ending, if you will.” 

“If she were to get Akumatized, HawkMoth would immediately know that she has one of the Miraculous he is after,” Chloe continued. “Even we somehow manage to rescue her, he will know her identity and be able to come up with ways to take the Miraculous from her civilian identity. She won’t be able to move, because she needs to be here to purify Akumas. It wouldn’t be practical for her to carry the teleportation Miraculous everywhere and use it to get back and forth; using two Miraculous at the same time for too long will drain her energy too quickly.” 

“Without The Ladybug Miraculous, we have no way to Purify Akumas. Without a way to Purify Akumas, you can’t win against HawkMoth without knowing his identity and taking the Butterfly Miraculous from him. Even if you defeat one possessed person, the Akuma will just come back if not purified. Over and over. It can pass through walls, and always knows where the person it originally possessed is.” 

Nightwing rubbed his forehead, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “So what you’re saying,” he said slowly, as if hoping he was wrong. “Is that the most important and most powerful Miraculous, along with all the responsibility attached to using it, was entrusted to a _teenager_. A teenager with no adult backup or guidance that any of us have been able to find. That’s what you’re saying, right?” 

The two heroes looked at each other again before shifting. 

“Well,” Chloe began hesitantly. “There is the person who chose Ladybug and Chat Noir.” 

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. He’d like to have a word with that bastard. “Yeah? And who’s that?” 

“Only Chat Noir and Ladybug know who he is and have met him,” Viperion told the older hero. “But he is the Guardian of the Miraculous. Besides Ladybug, he is the person whose identity is most highly guarded and he is equally important to protect. All Miraculous not currently in use are in his possession.” 

Dick sighed. Again with Ladybug having too much responsibility for her age. Being one of only two to know such a huge secret? How was the girl still standing under all that weight on her shoulders? Dick had to push away the urge to punch this Guardian guy. _No negativity,_ he reminded himself as he calmed down. _I’ll grab some ice cream on the way back to the condo and meditate afterwards. Ice cream fixes everything._

—*—*—*—*—*

Friday was going pretty nicely, Lila’s milder-than-usual annoyance just background noise compared to what Marinette was used to. The blue eyed girl hummed softly as they sat in one of the presentation rooms in Wayne Enterprises. She had managed to get back from Paris just in time to run and catch the bus before everyone took off without her. _Lucky!_ Now, several hours later, everything had calmed down and they were facing one of their main reasons for the month-long Gotham Stay. 

The competition Marinette had entered was centered around the way that understanding different ethnicities, cultures, and ways of education could help someone pave a unique path for themselves and their career. Therefore, besides the initial rest and tourism week allotted to them, they were spending the trip attending Gotham Academy during the week to learn about the American school system. Then, they would spend the weekends split off into groups or even solo based on what they had told WE was their future dream career or path. They would work in those groups with the most qualified WE employees for the area in discussion to learn more about the career and receive valuable tips, insight, and experience to give them a huge advantage in the future. 

Marinette didn’t just want to be a designer. She wanted to be like Gabriel Agreste or Audrey Bourgeois— a brand new, totally unique and respected fashion mogul. She wanted to run her own fashion line and maybe even magazine, which was all detailed in the essay that was a part of her winning contest submission. Since she had been the one whose submission won the contest in the first place, Marinette didn’t have to submit any further information. She was already guaranteed a “special surprise” internship as part of her grand prize. It would even be a solo internship, just her and her mentor(s). 

Suddenly, everyone in the room quieted. In walked the men of the hour— Bruce Wayne and his co-CEO and adoptive son, Tim Drake. 

Marinette was practically vibrating in her seat, sitting straight up with what she thought was probably the largest smile of her life on her face. She had two notebooks in her lap, her sketchbook and the new notebook she brought just for the trip. The latter was the one that was open on her lap now, a cute little red notebook with white polka-dots. Obvious? Maybe. But everyone in Paris loved Ladybug, and polka-dots were always in style in the City of Lights since HawkMoth surfaced. 

Marinette soaked up every word of the welcoming speech the elder Wayne gave, including his apology for their second day in Gotham going so badly. He explained the logistics of the weekend internships briefly, and gestured to Tim who held all the appropriate tags for everyone besides Marinette. Each tag was color-coded to differentiate the groups everyone was in. 

“And for our very impressive winner, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” Wayne said in flawless French, just like the rest of his speech had been, giving a charming smile and gesturing to the girl with one arm. She jolted at the attention suddenly on her, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. “Your surprise internship will be primary taken over by myself and Tim. As such, you are the only person with a black badge,” he pulled out a heavy-looking black metal badge on a lanyard, with Marinette’s name and internship status engraved in silver. “This badge is the only one that is embedded with specialized WayneTech. It will get you wherever you need to go, provided me or Tim have authorized it, and your photo ID is linked to it if you ever need to pass the front desk. Just tell them to scan it with their card reader,” the billionaire instructed. When Marinette still didn’t move, absolutely frozen to her spot, the man chuckled and held the card out a bit. “Well come on up, you _are_ the only reason your class was able to come here, you deserve this. Unless you want me to bring it over?” 

At the thought of inconveniencing him even a little, Marinette fumbled and scrambled to stand. 

“Oh—uh—no, that’s alright, I’m coming!” She stammered, somehow managing in the span of ten seconds to knock over all her notebooks and pens, trip over her own feet three times, and somehow end up in front of Bruce Wayne fully in tact. Breathless, but in tact. 

Trying his hardest to keep down a smile (and surprisingly only barely managing to succeed), Bruce handed her the card with amusement dancing in his eyes. Marinette did her best to pretend her entire head wasn’t redder than a tomato. 

“Th-th-Thank you, Monsieur Wayne! I really, really appreciate this opportunity not just for me, but for my whole class. This is beyond amazing, and it’s an honor for my submission to have won. Thank you so, so, so much!” 

“You wouldn’t have won if you didn’t deserve it,” Tim spoke up for the first time from his spot to the left and slightly behind his adoptive father. The poor guy had eye bags for his eye bags, and he was balancing a thermos of coffee along with the fourteen lanyards on his arms as if the coffee was the only real thing that mattered. “We all saw your submission. Trust me when I say that we had a lot of really great finalists, but yours won for a reason.” 

Marinette started flailing her hands wildly, stammering but unable to actually get a word out. Finally, she just covered her face in her hands. “I’m gonna explode from embarrassment…” she moaned quietly. Apparently both Waynes still heard her, the younger one snorting. Marinette groaned in despair. 

_Why can’t I be better at handling stuff like this?_

—*—*—*—*—*

That night, ten-thirty PM in Gotham, Bruce sat in the Batcave as he made a video call on the Batcomputer. The rest of the Bat family, with the exception of Batgirl and Black Bat, who were still on “vacation” with Selina, we’re gathered around in various nearby areas. The line clicked, and Dick’s groggy voice came over the line, followed by the appearance of his mussed-up hair and sleep-crusted eyes as he squinted at the screen. 

“Bruce? You know it’s four AM here, right? What the heck do you need?” 

“I finally found what I was looking for in the Justice League archives,” the man said without preamble, his face grim enough to immediately make Dick rub his eyes and sit up in alertness. “I wanted everybody to see what I found.” 

“Alright, I’m awake now,” the first Robin announced, eyes clear and focused now. “Play it, B.” 

Bruce nodded, and the screen switched from a display of Dick’s face to the Justice League video call log. 

“This is the first call, three years ago. It was made two weeks after the first Akuma attack in Paris,” he gave context before pressing play. 

The call symbol rang on the video call recording for a moment before it showed the call being answered. The caller was, to nobody’s surprise, Ladybug. However, the square that was supposed to show the face of the League member who answered the call remained shadowed and impossible to make out the person who answered. 

“Hello?” A female voice, stern and serious and not one that anyone in the Batcave recognized, answered the call from the League’s end. 

“Hi! My name is Ladybug, I’m a new superhero in Paris. A supervillain has surfaced and we are requesting—“

“We didn’t get any reports of activity in Paris,” the female responded in a clipped tone. Ladybug fumbled over her words for a second, clearly not having expected that response. 

“Uh, no,” Ladybug confirmed slowly, looking confused. “That’s what I’m doing now. Reporting and asking for aid. Please you have to believe me—“ 

“This is a serious line, not something to be used for a prank. Don’t call back, kid.” 

The call was forcibly ended. 

The Batcave was silent for a long moment, everyone who hadn’t already seen the footage in various states of shock or anger at what they just witnessed. 

“That wasn’t anyone I recognized,” Dick said slowly. “It could have been a disguised voice, but I don’t think anyone would answer a call like this in voice other than their own.” 

“Not anyone I know in the League either,” Bruce confirmed. “But the second video is more interesting. This was made almost a year later, when Akuma attacks picked up severely in frequency and severity.” 

Bruce pressed play on the second video. This time when the call was answered, there were several stark differences. For one, Ladybug looked much older. Not in appearance, necessarily, since for some reason none of them could pinpoint even a vague age range for her. No, she looked more world weary. Experienced. Seasoned and disillusioned. 

She looked more like the heroes they were used to seeing. 

And on the Justice League’s end this time was a very familiar face. Wonder Woman herself had answered the call. 

The amazon’s eyes went wide upon seeing who had called her. “You have reached the Justice League,” Wonder Woman greeted, though her voice was soft and oddly caught off guard. 

Ladybug smiled and nodded. “Wonder Woman. My name is Ladybug.” 

To everyone’s confusion, the recording of Wonder Woman gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “I thought so. I— you specifically aimed to contact me, did you not?” 

Ladybug chuckled, rubbing the back of her neck. “Let’s consider it luck,” she answered vaguely, neither confirming nor denying. Ladybug quickly got serious again. “But now I know for sure. You’re completely aware of what this means, aren’t you?” 

Wonder Woman collected herself easily, nodding with a serious but slightly concerned look in her eyes. “Indeed. For the Ladybug Miraculous to be reawakened… what is happening?” 

“The Butterfly Miraculous is happening,” Ladybug informed the famous heroine grimly. “We thought the Butterfly and the Peacock Miraculouses were lost, but they resurfaced last year in the wrong hands. We didn’t even know about the Peacock until last week. The current users call themselves HawkMoth and Mayura, respectively. They have been holding Paris emotionally hostage for the past year. When it first started, I called the league for help and was turned away because they thought I was pranking you.” 

The Amazon’s eyes glowed with righteous fury. “They did _what?_ I never heard of this! What aid do you require? I shall prepare it as soon as possible.”

“No,” Ladybug argued, startling Wonder Woman. “That is not why I called you.” 

“Then why did you?” The warrior asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why call me if not for aid?” 

“I realized a few weeks after the initial call for help that it was lucky I was turned away. Mayura and HawkMoth prey on negative emotions. Sadness, anger, hurt, any hint of weakness as well. Fear. Worry. If you do not already know, the Butterfly Miraculous allows the user to choose champions to bestow with superhuman abilities. HawkMoth uses people’s negative emotions to make them supervillains that he controls,” Ladybug explained clinically. “That’s why I had to speak to you in particular. Your mother was one of the previous wielders of the Ladybug Miraculous, so I suspected you would know about them already and understand the situation,” Ladybug took a breath before pinning the more experienced hero with a surprisingly serious, steady stare. “I have only had a year to get used to my abilities as Ladybug. I am not a fully experienced or developed hero yet. My partner and the temporary wielders I have chosen so far do not have years of combat experience. If even one member of the League offered us help and got Akumatized, we would not stand a chance. _I_ would not stand a chance, and I am the only person capable of purifying Akumas. I cannot allow myself to be defeated under any circumstances, not with HawkMoth and Mayura trying to get my Miraculous and the Black Cat to make a wish.” 

Wonder Woman’s sharp inhale suggested she knew the exact weight of that last statement. 

“This is a potentially world ending event,” the older woman stated softly, her words heavier than steel. “You have admitted to being young and inexperienced. You cannot face this threat alone. I, in my good conscience, cannot allow it.” 

“You rely on your emotions in combat,” Ladybug reminded her. “Coming to Paris would almost guarantee your Akumatization. Superman as well. Batman might be relatively safe, but I don’t know him. He doesn’t know me or my city, my partner and I would take too long to learn how to work with him even if he did come. Please, Wonder Woman, understand,” Ladybug turned pleading, leaning towards the camera. “I need you to keep the League away from Paris. Not to lie, I would never ask that of you, but to distract and keep this secret. If they find out, then please explain my point of view and call me. For now we have the situation under relative control. But it is my responsibility to make sure the situation _remains_ controlled. I can’t allow for any chance of further escalation.” 

The Amazon was silent for a few long seconds before nodding. “I understand. I will do my best to aid you in this fashion, Ladybug,” the woman agreed, giving the young hero an Amazonian salute. “You have my trust and respect as a Ladybug and defender of justice. Perhaps once you defeat this HawkMoth and Mayura, you can call me again and I can arrange for you to visit Themyscira. My mother would be delighted to meet the inheritor of her old identity.” 

Ladybug smiled softly, looking extremely touched at the idea. “I would like that. It would be an honor to meet a previous Ladybug.” 

Wonder Woman nodded with a kind smile to the younger female. “If you ever change your mind about aid, you know how to reach me. Farewell for now, Ladybug.” 

“Thank you for understanding. Goodbye, Wonder Woman.” 

The recording ended and once again silence echoed in the Batcave. The squeak of Barbara’s wheelchair moving slightly penetrated it. 

“Well shit,” the reheadhead remarked. Nobody argued with that statement. 

—*—*—*—*—*


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not the best, but oh well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real quick, can we take a moment to realize that this story has gotten over 500 kudos and almost 100 bookmarks in 7 DAYS! SEVEN! You guys are amazing omfg I am crying. How..? This wasn’t even supposed to BE anything! I just needed to get the concept out of my head before it strangled me, and I never expected you guys to actually like it so much. Guys. This is beyond awesome, thank you so damn much holy hell I love you. 
> 
> That being said, do you want me to make a Tumblr for this so you guys can scream at me there too? Because I will. This is the fastest any of my stories has ever gotten this much attention and love and I am a little overwhelmed but I LOVE IT.

Robin was late to the mindspace that night. Marinette wasn’t exactly worried; the past week had shown that both of them had a pretty messed up sleep schedule if nothing else. But she was buzzing with leftover energy from the day, the only thing that had her falling asleep even as early as eleven was the fact that she wanted to tell Robin everything. 

Which was new. Marinette loved talking and she’d been known to gush about her favorite things or new exciting things that happened in her life to her best friend(s). But she had never quite gotten to that stage with a guy she liked. 

And yeah, she had finally admitted after the third day of them meeting in the mindspace at night that she liked him. It wasn’t some massive revelation or anything— he was her soulmate. Her  _ romantic _ soulmate. The whole I-like-him phase was doomed to come eventually. But what confused Marinette was that this was nothing like with Adrien. 

She still stumbled over her words a lot, but only when Robin did or said something that flustered her. Which happened a lot. The guy was not the most socially adept, and he ended up saying a lot of things that initially sounded more flirty or suggestive than he actually meant them. Or rude and insensitive, which Marinette usually laughed at. His body language made it easy for her to tell that he didn’t mean his words the way they sounded, which helped her avoid misunderstandings with him. 

But she didn’t fawn over him. She didn’t write down his patrol schedule or route on a very creepy calendar (she still cringed when she thought about her thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old self and her dubious choices). She didn’t stare at him practically drooling every time they saw each other. And, no, the occasional lingering glance on his biceps or calves did  _ not  _ count, thank you. She  _ liked _ talking to him. It was easy. It wasn’t a backwards crab-crawl up a mountain carrying a sled of passed out reindeer like it had felt like to talk to Adrien back when she was still in “love” with him. She found herself wanting to talk, barely able to keep herself from diving into bed even when her insomnia reared its ugly head and demanded she stay up, because she just wanted to talk to Robin and see what he would say. Or even say nothing. She was actually fine with them just going to their sides of the mindspace and existing in comfortable silence, because they both needed that sometimes. She liked the mystery, too, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t. She liked imagining what he might look like without the mask, if it would even make a big difference or not. She liked wondering about his real name, wondering about if he’d ever decide to tell her about his past and trying to imagine what it was like. 

She missed him. They saw each other every time they slept, but she still missed him and it was the weirdest thing. The weirdest, most wonderful thing. 

So she distracted herself by using her imagination to create a rock wall of different shades of pink on her side of the mental world. 

“What are you doing?” 

The familiar voice made the girl smile widely, turning to face her soulmate who was masked as usual. Her smile faltered a bit when she saw how he looked. Tense, with his brows drawn low over his masked eyes. His thumbs hooked in the waistband of his pajama pants, Andy is mind clearly elsewhere despite the fact that he was looking towards her newest creation and talking to her. 

“It’s a rock wall. I have a lot of energy to burn,” she admitted, but she didn’t feel like using the wall all of a sudden. Instead, she walked slowly closer to her soulmate, who had already become her friend if nothing else. “What happened?” 

Robin scoffed humorlessly, moving to lean against the counter of Marinette’s kitchen. “Straight to the point as always when it comes to my emotions, huh?” He pointed out a bit too harshly. Marinette frowned, catching the deflection for what it was and not buying into it. 

“Yes,” she agreed firmly, moving to lean next to him. “Would you answer me if I took too long to ask?” Robin’s silence was all the answer either of them needed. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then tell me and we can race up the rock wall instead.” 

“... Batman and the others decided to look into the situation in Paris to see if there was anything we could do to help,” he looked down at the ground as he spoke, clearly thinking about whatever had happened earlier instead of actually trying to glare the imaginary floor into submission. He went on to explain the videos they saw, to explain Ladybug’s plea for Wonder Woman to divert the League’s attention away from Paris. He even confided in Nightwing’s current placement in Paris (not that that was exactly news to Marinette anymore, but Robin obviously didn’t know that). 

“Nightwing saw Ladybug in person. All of us Robins started out at a pretty young age, even though we had constant supervision and backup from Batman, so we all know what a teenage hero looks like. Nightwing says that Ladybug cannot be a day older than seventeen at  _ best, _ ” Robin told her, unknowingly making Marinette freeze. Usually the Miraculous magic did a better job of protecting her from people noticing things like her age. Clues to her identity, no matter how small or vague, were usually hopelessly blurred by the Miraculous. For Nightwing to immediately guess her age, he had to have  _ very _ concrete knowledge on all the signs of a hero being younger than most might think.

“Woah,” was all Marinette said out loud. Robin huffed in halfhearted agreement. “But you’re young too, right? Around my age, or else this would be a little weird.” 

Robin grinned at that. “I am sixteen, if you must know. But again, I have been monitored by Batman since I became Robin and I have never wanted for options for backup. Even then, my initial childhood is a special case. I would not recommend anybody start out as a hero or vigilante as young as I did,” he confided. “Everything we discovered about Ladybug…” he sighed in frustration, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Do you understand? What she must be carrying on her shoulders? She is the obvious leader of the Parisian heroes, but we couldn’t find a single adult hero in Paris that could offer any of them guidance or aid. Nightwing said there is some elusive Guardian, but he doesn’t seem to be much help when the heroes are almost losing the battles he sent them into. Ladybug is apparently a title that people such as Hippolyta have held before. Warriors who knew what they were doing and accomplished their feats later in life than thirteen or fourteen. That is the age Ladybug had to have started as the primary savior of Paris if Nightwing’s estimate on her age is correct,” Damian was saying. “She chooses heroes, fights battles, is expected to be the only one to never get Akumatized not because it is impossible but simply because it’s  _ expected  _ in order for the world to not possibly  _ end.  _ She knows the identity of the Guardian, which is an equally dangerous and important secret for her to protect, and she felt so responsible for the fate of this entire fiasco in Paris that she deliberately turned the Justice League away from offering help.” 

“Robin,” Marinette interrupted, very worried. She had never known him to ramble (and sure they had only known each other for a week, but it felt longer), and his words were only getting angrier as he went. He finally stood up and stalked a few paces away as his tone went up into a near  _ shout.  _

“What gives anyone the right to take away her childhood like that? He deserves to be a child, not have so many impossible expectations thrust at him and be told never to crumble!” 

_ Oh.  _ Marinette’s shoulders drooped and her eyes widened as she suddenly understood. “‘He,’ Robin?” 

_ He understands.  _

The vigilante turned, eyes wide even through his mask. “I said she.” 

“No, you said he. And ‘his,’” Marinette told him gently. Robin shook his head, going over to his rack of swords and starting to decapitate his practice dummies. Whenever he ran out, they would repair themselves and he would start over. 

Suddenly, Marinette didn’t quite enjoy imagining Robin’s past as much as before. Now, her imaginings were filled with looming shadows, cold words, and too-heavy expectations. 

She watched as another dummy head fell onto the ground. 

She thought about how he had spontaneously brought up Red Hood’s history of killing the previous week, all those nights ago. How she had thought, almost on a whim, that he might have killed as well. 

And suddenly her imaginings of his past were filled with blood. 

“... will you take me freerunning tomorrow before your patrol?” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Friday, being the introductory day, made Saturday the first official day of the class’s temporary Gotham internships. Marinette, even though Lila was on a mild streak, decided to have Tikki store her special WE internship badge in the Ladybug yo-yo. No need to tempt fate, the last thing she needed was someone stealing it out of jealousy. 

And there had been  _ quite _ a few jealous glares at the badge around her neck the previous day when Bruce and Tim had given them a tour of Wayne Tower. 

After arriving at the Tower, everyone was waiting in a group for the employees in charge of their groups to come and pick them up. Reaching into her purse, Marinette got her card back from Tikki discretely and slung it, on its lanyard, around her neck. The receptionist who had been periodically looking up at the class seemed to zero in on the object, eyes widening comically. 

The small Asian girl had been just about to go up to the first employee guide to arrive and ask where she was supposed to go, when said shocked receptionist rushed over so quickly that she almost tripped over her four inch stilettos. 

“Uhh,” was all Marinette could say for a long moment. The woman caught her breath, and straightened. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right? With your teacher’s permission, I would like to escort you to the guide for your internship. As Mister Wayne and Mister Drake will be sharing leadership over your internship and have incredibly unpredictable schedules, they have assigned a proxy of sorts to help oversee that you are always looked after and able to arrive to all of your destinations on time.” 

“D-destinations?” 

The woman nodded, smiling. “Of course. Your internship will be very mobile. Today, Mister Wayne has asked for you to visit him at his home so that he and Mister Drake can introduce you to the household. They do a lot of their work at home, after all,” the woman’s smile turned into a wry grin. “Well, Mister Wayne does. He said you could bring a friend if you wanted, by the way.” 

Marinette, who had previously tensed in panic, relaxed a little. A friend? Yeah. She could handle going to a billionaire’s literal home if she had someone to lean on while there. And possibly pick up her corpse if she fell over from sheer shock at the sight of everything. 

“Awesome! Alix,” The pigtailed girl wasted no time explaining the situation to her only reliable friend in class, and was relieved immensely when the skater easily agreed. In fact, she seemed pretty pumped to be visiting the Wayne manor. Which, of course, so was Marinette. It was the  _ Wayne Manor.  _

_ Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,  _ she thought frantically.  _ I am so glad I brought my sketchbook! I bet it’s a treasure trove of inspiration!  _

After the proper permissions were given, the receptionist walked them right back outside— where an honest-to-god  _ stretch limo _ was waiting. In front of said stretch limo was an aging man with white hair and a patient smile. 

Marinette.exe failed to respond. 

“Marinette,” Alix waves a hand in front of her friend’s face. The black haired girl was vacant, gaping wide mouthed at the limo with eyes that screamed “blue-screen.” 

The pinkette, thoroughly used to this kind of reaction by then, just laughed and dragged the Asian girl forward gently by the arm. “Bonjour! I’m Alix. Excuse Marinette, she always gets like this with displays of wealth or generosity towards her,” the teen explained easily. 

“L-l-limo,” the person in question stuttered, slowly waking up and shaking Alix. “H-h-he sent a  _ limo.”  _

The aging man just chuckled in amusement, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Yes, Master Wayne has a habit of doing things like this. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Alfred Pennyworth. I am Master Wayne’s butler and the housekeeper, and general glorified nanny,” he explained with good humor. Seeing the worry building on the face of the blue-eyes teen, he was quick to add: “But I assure you, it is a pleasure to be your guide during your internship here in Gotham. You cannot be more difficult than Master Wayne, in any case,” he joked lightly. The attempt at humor helped, relaxing the Marinette’s shoulders and getting a laugh out of Alix. 

“Thank you,” Marinette made sure to tell him, her voice conveying just how sincere she was. “Mister Wayne didn’t have to do all this. I’m just one girl who happened to win one contest, I didn’t do anything that amazing.” 

Alfred just raised an eyebrow. “With all due respect, Miss Dupain-Cheng, winning a contest developed by Master Wayne and Master Drake  _ is  _ something amazing. Now then, we don’t want to be late for lunch now, do we?” With that, the Butler turned and opened the door for the girls. With nothing else to do, they traded a glance and got in. 

Twenty minutes later, they stood at the porch of Wayne Manor. Or, more accurately, Alfred held the door open to the Manor patiently as Marinette sketched madly in her notebook and Alix tugged her to the best of her abilities by the elbow. 

“Wait! I need to get this line juuuust right!” 

“Marinette, come on!” Alix groaned, tugging again. “They’re probably waiting!” 

_ That _ woke the artist up. Marinette quickly put her notebook back in her bag and entered the large house after a small apology grin to the butler, who just looked thoroughly entertained and maybe a little fond. 

The man then led them to the kitchen, glancing back every once in a while in amusement to see Marinette gawking at everything in childish wonder. 

_ Quite different from what everyone must have expected,  _ the old butler thought slyly.  _ But she will definitely be a good influence on Master Damian.  _

“Oh good, you made it alright,” the familiar friendly, smooth voice greeted suddenly. Somehow still surprised despite having expected her host to be waiting for them (probably because of how entranced she had been with the décor and layout of the luxurious mansion), Marinette jumped. 

Which turned into a stumble, which turned into a squeak of both embarrassment and fright as she pitched forward, which developed into a messy roll on the ground, which ended in her face-up on the ground and slightly dazed. 

_ Ohhh great,  _ she thought glumly.  _ My clumsiness kicks in right when I need to make a good first impression. Typical.  _

“What is going on?” A new voice joined in right as Alix and Alfred finished helping Marinette back to her feet. 

“Are you alright, miss Dupain-Cheng?” Bruce Wayne asked, brows pinched in slight worry. His voice had been the one to startle Marinette, and he waited until he got a nod of agreement before turning to look at the newcomer who had questioned him. “I invited the winner of the Wayne Enterprises International Scholastic Competition over for lunch. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, meet my youngest and only biological son, Damian. Damian, this is the contest winner, and her friend, miss..?” 

“Alix,” the skater responded easily, thumbs tucked into the pockets of her jeans. “Alix Kubdel.” 

The scene was pretty funny. In the center of the room was a large dining table with at least a dozen chairs. At the head of the table sat Bruce. To his right was Tim. At his left was another young man, probably around Tim’s age, with a rough sort of look to him. He was in a leather jacket and had a white stripe in his unruly hair, and was leaning with the front two legs of his chair lifted off the ground. Seated next to Tim was a pretty woman with fiery red hair in a wheelchair. And lastly, stuck at another entrance into the room, was a boy around Alix and Marinette’s age. He was dressed very proper, in a very high quality long-sleeved blue sweater and slacks. 

And he was glaring daggers at his father, who continued to talk as if nothing happened. 

“You already know Tim, my second-youngest son. To my left is Jason Todd, my second eldest. Dick— Richard Grayson— is out of town right now for work, but he’s my eldest. And next to Tim is Barbara Gordon, a close family friend.” 

Alix’s eyes shot up. “Gordon?” She asked, sounding impressed. “Like, police commissioner Gordon? The guy who decided to brag about his daughter when he thought we couldn’t understand him because it’s the first thing he could apparently think of to sound calming, Commissioner Gordon?” 

Marinette swiftly elbowed her friend, glaring at her. “Alix!” 

She was thoroughly ignored. 

The redhead laughed. “That’s Dad, alright,” she confirmed easily. “Nice to meet you, Alix, Marinette.” 

“You should sit down, Master Damian,” Alfred, who had apparently snuck out when they weren’t paying attention, said calmly as he started to set down the first few dishes on the table. “Lunch is ready. Miss Dupain—“

“Just Marinette, please, all of you,” she interrupted immediately holding up her hands with a blush. “Dupain-Cheng is a mouthful, and I really appreciate it, but I’d prefer just Marinette.” 

“Miss Just Marinette, then,” the butler teased, eyes mischievous. “You and Miss Kubdel May sit wherever you like. Master Bruce might seem intimidating, but I can assure you he does not bite.” 

Alix was the one that laughed, towing a flustered and red-faced Marinette over to sit on the side by Barbara and Tim, with the pigtailed girl being sat right next to the redhead. Damian took a seat directly in front of Marinette, leaving an empty chair between him and Jason. Considering how nobody commented on it, the French teens assumed it was normal. 

“So, Marinette,” Bruce spoke up after a few seconds of silent eating, AKA Damian shooting glares at him while everyone else pretended not to notice. “I already know from your submission that you aim to go into the fashion industry and run your own clothing line and possibly magazine,” he started. “But what else do you do? Any sports or hobbies?” 

“Uh,” Marinette swallowed a bite of her food before tilting her head in thought. “Not… really? I help out my parents in the bakery a lot, and I’m class president so I have a lot of responsibilities that take up time there, too. My mom teaches me self defense on the weekends, and I’m learning Mandarin right now. Besides that, I spend a lot of my time designing and sewing.” 

Alix snorted, raising an eyebrow. “You spend  _ all _ of the rest of your time designing, you mean,” she corrected mercilessly before looking up at the rest of the table. “I mean, Marinette hardly even  _ sleeps  _ anymore. We all know it— well, those of us that aren’t disloyal idiots anyway. She makes all of her own clothes, shops for fabric in her free time, bakes for literally  _ every _ special occasion, and Madam Bustier gives her  _ way _ too much responsibility. At this point, the only things Marinette  _ doesn’t  _ do for the class anymore are write up lesson plans and give lectures. She was even the one that put together our itinerary for this trip as soon as she and Madam Bustier got the details of her winning the competition.” 

“Alix,” Marinette warned, face red with embarrassment and fork down on her plate. “Stop.” 

Alix ignored her. 

“I try to help, but Bustier always tells us that it’s  _ Marinette’s  _ job to set a good example for the class and show us what it means to ‘be a good leader,’” Alix framed the last four words in finger quotations as she rolled her eyes. “She even puts together our study guides and gives us a list of our project and test deadlines! Madam Bustier never says a  _ word _ about those, expecting Marinette to keep us up to date. It’s honestly really frustrating, but Marinette is too nice to say anything about it.” 

“ _ Alix,” _ Marinette’s voice got firm all of a sudden, less of a plead and more of a gentle order. “Stop.” 

The two classmates locked eyes for a moment, but Alix was the first to look away, huffing as she did. Marinette took the chance to send an apologetic look at everyone else at the table. 

“I’m sorry, it’s really not that big of a deal. Alix is just protective—“

“When do you find the time to  _ breathe?”  _ Jason asked, looking appalled as he leaned over his plate of food towards her. “She’s working you like a mule!” 

“It isn’t right for a teacher to make her student do so much of her  _ own _ job,” Bruce agreed grimly. “You deserve to relax and enjoy your teenage years, too. This is honestly concerning.” 

But the young pigtailed girl was not having it. She shook her head rapidly, holding her hands up in denial. “No, no, it’s fine, I promise! Just, can we change the subject? I don’t do sports, besides training with my mom even though that’s just for self defense, but I used to do gymnastics as a kid. I keep up with my stretches.” 

“So, nothing to work out your stress?” Jason prodded, raising an eyebrow. “No rollerblading or skateboarding or parkour, or anything else to get the blood pumping?” 

Damian stomped on Jason’s foot, but the older man just bit his cheek and pretending it didn’t  _ hurt like a bitch.  _ He glared at Damian. 

They were startled out of their exceptionally short glaring contest by Alix’s barking laughter and Marinette choking on a sip of her water. The blue eyed girl slapped her chest as she tried to regain her breath, her friend wiping away tears of joy. 

“ _ Parkour? Marinette _ , the single clumsiest person I have ever met, doing  _ parkour?”  _ Alix asked incredulously, still smiling wide. “Did you  _ see _ her reaction to Mister Wayne’s voice? She’d break all her bones in five seconds flat.” 

Marinette tried to murder her friend with her gaze, and failed miserably. “Aliiiiixxxx,” she whined. 

“No,” she waved a hand to combat Marinette trying to shake her into submission. “Let me finish; Marinette is a lot of really awesome things, but an athlete is not one of them. I’ve seen her try to fence and trust me, it’s not happening. She’s also not a morning person at all, but that’s neither here nor there and probably has more to do with her nearly nonexistent sleep schedule. And I know she can hold her own in a situation like last week,” Alix continued, her rapid fire speech slowing down and her face growing a tad more serious at the memory of the attempted robbery. “But Marinette is one of the least confrontational people I have ever met. If we hadn’t been in danger too, I doubt she would have attacked that guy at all. She’s more likely to hand over her purse to a mugger than anything. Like, she’s awesome and nice and everything, but she isn’t exactly threatening or even just confident enough in herself. ” 

Marinette had given up, putting her face in her hands and trying her best to merge into her chair. 

Unbeknownst to her, glances were traded around the table. That didn’t exactly add up with what they already knew about Marinette. She already  _ had _ defended herself, beating up two out of three thugs that tried to kidnap her on her first night in Gotham. She had shown herself to be intimidating and confident when it mattered, too, if the way she spoke to the vigilantes at night and commanded her class in a bad situation was any indicator. 

_ We’re missing something _ , Tim thought silently, a glance to Barbara showing that she believed the same thing.  _ Marinette’s hiding something, and she’s doing it well if her close friend doesn’t even suspect anything.  _

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette showed up to the agreed upon address dressed in all black. Long leggings, a black sweater, black combat boots, and a beanie tugged over the top of her head. The sun was already setting, and she looked over at the skyline from her vantage point on the room with a brief but staggering desire for her sketchbook. A quiet thump landed behind her, making the girl turn to face Robin and Red Hood. Marinette raised an eyebrow. 

“Both if you?” She asked, bewildered. “I thought it would just be the two of us freerunning, Robin.” 

“Yeah, he decided to tag along and I didn't lose him in time,” her soulmate grumbled. 

“Someone’s gotta make sure she doesn’t fall,” Red Hood joked, in reality dead serious after the stumble he’d seen her take that afternoon just from being startled. He had seen Marinette behave in ways that contested some of what her friend Alix had said, but that didn’t mean the pink haired skater had been entirely wrong. Even Tim and Bruce admitted to seeing Marinette being clumsy during the presentation the previous day. 

Marinette huffed. “Well, contrary to apparently popular opinion, I’m not that much of a clutz,” she said, which she didn’t realize made both heroes much more suspicious of her. She had admitted to being very clumsy to them earlier in the day (even if she didn’t know yet that they were the same people) and this statement just proved that she was lying. 

Now they just had to figure out  _ which  _ statement was a lie. Clumsy, or not clumsy?

“Come on, we will take an easier route until I can figure out what you’re up to doing,” Robin suggested, earning a shrug of agreement. “And here,” he held out a plain black domino mask. “Just in case someone sees you with us, this will protect your identity.” 

Marinette nodded, slipping on the piece of fabric that was obviously modeled after Robin’s own mask. It had the spike details and everything, which Marinette found a little edgy and not really her style but not altogether ugly. Still, she could make something better. 

“Ready,” she told them once she was sure the mask was firmly stuck on her face and not going anywhere. Robin nodded, and started to lead the way only for Marinette to grin slyly and run ahead of him. 

“Wait!” He reaches forward to grab her but Marinette evaded, jumping off the side of the roof in the direction Robin has been heading and easily crossing the distance. She laughed happily at the sensation of flying through the air, tucking to land into a textbook perfect roll on the other roof. She easily rolled to her feet, turning to wave to them. “Come on! I have  _ way _ too much energy pent up, I need a good freerun!” 

Jason and Damian traded looks before following. If they learned anything that night, it was that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was definitely not straightforward. 

_ What is she not telling us?  _

—*—*—*—*—*

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Guys. This happens on every story I post, but PLEASE LISTEN. 
> 
> I appreciate that you guys like this story, seriously. But commenting “can’t wait for your next chapter” or “please update soon” does NOT motivate me! It just puts pressure to update, which makes me feel like this is a job, which takes the fun out of it and said my motivation. I appreciate the support, really I do, but I have already updated 9 chapters in 13 days. You’ve only had to wait 2 days at most for the next chapter so far, please do not rush me. I write/finish every chapter the same day I post it, and I don’t edit. I want to continue enjoying to do this without the pressure to update “as soon as possible,” you know?
> 
> Thank you.

Another whoop of joy came out of Marinette’s mouth and she front flipped in the air before landing in a crouch on the railing of a fire escape. She stood up, seemingly not at all concerned about her balance, and looked over to her soulmate and his tagalong. “Where now?” 

“We’ll take a left here and lead you back to the hotel. We’ll drop you off a block away and follow over the rooftops until we make sure you get back safely,” Robin informed her as he landed on the fire escape across the alley from her. Actually  _ on _ the landing of it and not on the rail like she was. Marinette nodded, secretly glad to have somebody watching over  _ her _ for a change. 

Maybe that’s why she didn’t mind Red Hood tagging along on her and Robin’s unconventional date. All too often it felt like she was the only one looking after everyone else, keeping everyone else safe and protected and healthy without anyone to do the same for her. 

And yeah, her parents were great. They took good care of Marinette— but not Ladybug. Ladybug still protected  _ them _ , and they were none the wiser about only providing for half of who Marinette really was. 

They were sprinting over a very high, hotel rooftop when a flash of gold caught Marinette’s eye. As soon as they slid down to the much lower rooftop next to the hotel, she brought up a hand in a signal she often used with Chat when she was too out of breath to verbally tell him to stop moving. Luckily, both vigilantes caught on immediately and stopped moving. Robin walked over to her, leaning so he could try to find what Marinette was staring at. 

“What is it, Angel?” He asked, not even realizing the teasing nickname from the night before coming back up. Besides a bit of red on Marinette’s neck and a snicker from Red Hood, the slip was ignored. 

“Him,” she pointed to the head of bright gold hair that had caught her attention. “That’s my classmate, Adrien. But there’s no reason for him to be out alone. Unlike me, he’s very popular in class. There is no way he would be able to easily escape without a few tag-alongs,” she explained. 

“Huh. Pretty boy doesn’t look too hot, either,” Hood mused. Sure enough, Adrien was looking around with worry in his green eyes and an arm across his stomach. Then he raised his phone, dialed, and put the object to his ear. Marinette’s phone began to buzz from its state on vibrate almost immediately. She pulled it out, seeing that it was definitely Adrien calling and no coincidence, and traded a look with her vigilante companions before taking a step back and putting the call on speaker. 

“Adrien? I told you I was going to be visiting a friend in town. What’s wrong?” Marinette asked in English, knowing Adrien was also fluent and wanting to make this easier on her companions, but Adrien must have really wanted to keep the whole thing secret, because he responded in very soft Mandarin. 

“Marinette. You have a way to contact Ladybug, right?” 

Marinette’s eyebrows furrowed. It took her a second to translate, but Adrien had spoken slowly enough to allow her to understand what he said without too much effort. It helped that Damian had been helping her practice. 

“是的,” Marinette confirmed reluctantly. “But you know that is only for—“ her face scrunched up as she fought for the right word, “—dangerous.” 

“Emergencies?” 

“Yes, that,” Marinette said with a sigh. “What is wrong?” 

Adrien was silent for a long moment, and a quick look over the edge of the building showed him tugging at his hair with one hand. 

“I need to talk to her,” he said in soft Mandarin. Marinette frowned. 

“Why?” 

“I—“ Adrien let out a frustrated sigh. “I can’t tell you.” 

“I can’t help you if I don’t know, Adrien.” 

“Marinette, you have to trust me,” he pleaded, the two of them still conversing in strained Chinese. “I…” 

“I can’t just call Ladybug for no reason, Adrien.” 

“ _ I’m Chat Noir,”  _ he almost hissed, using the words that literally meant “black cat” in Mandarin. “And I don’t know what happened, but something— with my Miraculous—“ he growled in frustration. “It hasn’t been the same since last week’s attack.” 

Marinette blinked, looking over at Damian. The second half of that was beyond her, so her soulmate whispered in her ear what he said in Cantonese. Marinette’s face went white. 

“What, Adrien?” She asked, her voice shaky. She switched to French almost on instinct. “Please tell me I translated that wrong.” 

“No,” he responded in French. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you, Ladybug is very strict about nobody knowing who we are. But I trust you, Marinette, and you’re my only hope right now. Not even I know who Ladybug is or how to contact her. None of us do. And ever since the attack, things with my powers have been…  _ off.  _ I can’t— I need to talk to Ladybug.” 

_ Oh, we’ll be talking alright,  _ Marinette thought grimly.  _ I really hope this isn’t serious, but my gut is not giving me much hope.  _ Marinette had learned to trust her instincts over the years, and what they were telling her just then was not promising. Her heart was in her stomach. 

“Alright,” Marinette responded in French. “I’ll call her. She probably won’t be able to come in person, but—“

“That’s okay. I just need to tell her what’s going on.”

Marinette sighed, shoulders slumping with sudden exhaustion. “I know. I’ll tell her to call you tonight. And Adrien?” 

“Yes?” 

“We’re talking about Chat Noir later.” 

“...I was worried about that. See you when you get back, Mari.” 

“Okay, What?” Hood asked as soon as the call was hung up. “I mean, I was expecting to hear some teenage drama or a love confession or something. But— What just happened?” 

Marinette sighed. She knew Hood didn’t know Mandarin, or any Chinese dialect according to Robin, but was fluent in French. Quickly, she and Robin filled him in on what he missed. Then Marinette sighed again and ran a hand over her face. 

“I should have taken that in private,” she regretted aloud. “But he looked so troubled, I thought maybe he was in some trouble that you guys could help with.” 

“So, another one of your Paris heroes is a kid,” Hood summarized, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Marinette had gotten comfortable with the large man during their freerunning, but she had to admit that he still struck a very intimidating figure. “One of the originals, too. It was him and Ladybug by themselves in the beginning, wasn’t it?” 

Marinette’s shoulders slumped as she nodded. “He would never have outed himself to me if he didn’t think this was serious,” she told them. “All the Parisian heroes take their identities  _ very _ seriously. As you probably realized by what he said, Chat Noir and Ladybug don’t even know each other’s identities. They don’t allow themselves to,” her brows furrowed. “Not until now, anyway. They’ve been fighting for over three years and never told anybody, which means Adrien thinks he’s in  _ real  _ danger.” 

“You said the Black Cat is the Miraculous of Destruction, correct?” Robin asked, thinking back to the first discussion they had with her about Akumas and Paris. “Do you know what could be happening? Are there side effects with the Miraculous?” 

“There shouldn’t be,” Marinette admitted slowly, glaring at the rooftop below her as she thought. “But… it isn’t impossible. Destruction is an immense power, and you have to be suited to the Miraculous in order to wield it. Same with the Ladybug. If Adrien somehow lost suitability, it might backfire.” 

“Sounds like he really  _ is _ in some deep shit, then,” Hood mused grimly. “If you need us, use the good ‘ol Soulmate Phone and call us.” 

“Do not refer to our bond as a mere cellphone, you ignoramus,” Robin snapped. “Come on, Angel. Let’s get you back to the hotel.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette sewed while she waited. She couldn’t just call Adrien right away, and she had to think up a good cover story for when she didn’t sound tired. It would be… 

Marinette looked at the clock. 

Almost four in the morning back in Paris, and Marinette did  _ not  _ trust her acting skills enough to pretend like she had just been woken up. 

_ I told Nightwing I was out of town. Ryuuko, Queen Bee, and Viperion all know that and would agree with my story. I can just say I’m on vacation in the states, yeah. It won’t even be a lie!  _ Marinette sighed, knowing that she had become pretty good at lying while telling the truth. Toeing the line between obvious and obscure with what she said, fashioning her words in just the right way to be misleading. It wasn’t something she was proud of, but it was a necessary skill for someone who could not lie on the spot to save her life and was a superhero at the same time. 

She glanced down at what she had made as she put in the final stitches and cut off her thread. It should have been her dress— she still only had her Gala dress half-finished and it was beckoning to her— but for some reason she was compelled to stress-sew  _ this  _ instead _.  _

It was a suit jacket. The main jacket was a glossy black color with a collar and trim that were a deep, alluring red only a few shades above maroon. Over each pocket was a strip of dark forest green that could be mistaken as a shade of black in the wrong lighting. It was even reversible. When turned inside out, the suit jacket became primarily the dark red color, with color-blocked silver pockets and a black trim. The black side of the jacket had dark golden buttons, and the red side had charcoal gray. But right above the pocket that lay over the “heart” of the jacket, hidden in the strip of black that lay over the pocket, was the dark pink signature “MDC.”

The teen designer had already started the jacket a few days ago, of course. Not even she could do a reversible jacket in an hour. But she had, for some reason, felt compelled to finish assembling and putting all the finishing details on this instead of her dress. She didn’t know why, but it probably had to do with the fact that the jacket was modeled after Robin. 

She wanted to include all of his colors, but that wasn’t easy without being overly obvious or going Christmassy. She was pretty pleased with the end result, all things considered. 

But she wanted her soulmate’s comfort. She wanted to vent to him about everything, but it just wasn’t  _ time  _ yet. They had only known each other for nine days. Neither of them had fessed up to their alter egos yet. So as much as she would love to sit down and vent about all her worries regarding Chat Noir and Adrien and the Miraculous and the Kwamis, she couldn’t. 

“Are those bats?” Tikki asked, flying over to the jacket. Marinette smiled widely. It was one of her favorite aspects of the jacket, something she took massive pride in. On the black side of the jacket were tiny charcoal gray embroideries of a bat in flight, which would only show in the right lighting and even then would just look like shiny detailing from the distance. On the red side, each pocket had two small robins embroidered on each lower corner in a red thread that was just  _ slightly  _ darker than the fabric surrounding it. Just like the bats, the Robin’s would only be discernible in the right lighting and from the right distance. 

“Yep! Isn’t it cool? I thought of the idea when Batman faded into the shadows back when we first met.” 

Marinette let herself talk idly to Tikki about the jacket for a little while longer, carefully folding the item and hiding it away in an empty shopping bag in her closet before resigning herself to what she knew she had to do. 

“Okay, Tikki. Spots on.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Robin’s voice cut through the girl’s thoughts as she sat on her loft bed in their mindspace, the discussion with Adrien still at the forefront of her mind. She pigtailed girl frowned, looking down at the pink ground beneath her bed. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I called Ladybug like I said I would and… she told me to keep an eye on Adrien,” Marinette told him, having to use every last bit of her willpower to lie to him in a space that almost  _ demanded _ nothing but the truth. She wasn’t ready to face the truth yet. “I just hope he’s going to be okay.” 

“Mind if I come up?” Robin asked. Marinette shook her head, and her soulmate joined her on the loft bed. After a moment of sitting silently side my side, Marinette let her head lean on his shoulders. A few more minutes passed, and he finally drew her down so that they lay side by side. 

“If we go to sleep in the mindspace, we will dream like normal,” he told her. “Maybe that’s what you need. Your brain has been active twenty-four-seven. Mine as well. Perhaps we would both benefit from some legitimate escape from our consciousness.” 

Marinette let out a long breath, and slowly nodded. “Okay. Stay here?” 

“Of course, Angel.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

The first day at Gotham Academy was nerve wracking, even more so when Marinette found her eyes constantly drawn to Adrien. Even just the day since he spoke to Ladybug had seen him slowly, but noticeably, deteriorate. He had dark spots hanging under his eyes, the green of his irises dull and not as fluorescent and bright as usual. His hair even seemed to drag, weighed down instead of fluffy and gravity defying. His skin was pale. 

He kept telling everybody that asked that he was sick, which meant Lila kept her space from him for once. Something about having an immune disorder and she didn’t want to catch what he had and risk  _ dying.  _

Dramatic liar. 

But Marinette knew different. Again, her mind strayed to the talk she had had with him as Ladybug. “I’m gonna have to visit him soon,” she whispered to the red kwami hiding in her shirt collar and trying to get a peek at the very same boy. “This can’t continue like this.” 

“I agree, Marinette,” Tikki whispered back. “But it’s such a shame.” 

Their whispers were cut off by the headmaster and a cheerful student coming up to them. The pigtailed French-Asian girl drowned out his welcoming speech and the introduction of their tour guide, and she just kept glancing worriedly at her superhero partner as he lagged behind. 

Soon they were split up into their different small groups, Adrien luckily in Marinette’s own group of three along with Max. They were led off to their first classroom for their introduction. 

Immediately, the teen hero’s gaze narrowed onto vivid, dark green eyes. Her own bluebell orbs widened in surprise. 

_ Damian Wayne went here?  _

“Miss? Would you introduce yourself?” She snapped back into focus to notice everyone looking at her expectantly. She flushed red and jumped, panicking. 

“Oh! Je suis Désolé! I zoned out, I’m sorry! My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, thank you for welcoming our class!” 

The room was filled with soft chuckles and coos at her stammering and awkward display, which just made her flush darken. Adrien patted her shoulder with a weak but encouraging smile before he walked off to an empty seat. Marinette looked around, but found herself heading over to the youngest Wayne boy out of instinct. Sitting down in the desk next to him, for some reason, made her body relax. It was like he exuded an aura of calm, like a portable sanctuary. It was nice. 

Nobody seemed to agree with her though, judging by the horrified, wide-eyed looks and whispers that accompanied her choice of seating. 

_ “Do you think he’ll yell at her?”  _

_ “Five bucks says he makes her cry before the bell rings.”  _

_ “No, he’ll bite her like the savage he is!”  _

_ “Ice King? No way, he’ll glare at her until she runs away from Gotham entirely.”  _

Marinette just raised her eyebrows in shock at the way everyone spoke about the boy next to her. Sure, he hadn’t been the most warm or welcoming at their lunch the previous day, but he hadn’t been  _ mean.  _ He didn’t deserve anything they were saying! 

“I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t cry easily, isn’t it?” She spoke up, her voice cracking through the room like a whip despite her not raising it. It held such protective animosity, just  _ daring  _ anyone to argue with her, that it commanded everyone to listen. She would stand back and be demure when someone attacked her, but not when the bullying was aimed at someone else. Especially someone innocent. She raised her chin a bit in an attempt to project her inner Chloé. “Wanting a bit of privacy or preferring not to talk to people is not a crime. How about I return that bet?  _ I  _ bet that I will make it through these three weeks here at Gotham Academy without ever changing my seat of my own free will. If I win, you will have to stop treating him like some fairytale monster. If you win,” she shrugged. “I’m moving back to Paris at the end of the month anyway, so it doesn’t matter.” 

The class was silent at the new girl’s bold challenge. She smiled cheerfully, giving them situational whiplash. “I hope we all get along while my class is in the city!” 

“You did not have to do that,” the boy remarked coldly, raising an eyebrow. Marinette shrugged. 

“I won’t let them talk about you like that.” 

“I am used to it.” 

“That doesn’t make it okay.” 

Damian sighed, shaking his head as if she were a lost cause. “Whatever you say, Dupain-Cheng. Do not come running to me if your little bet comes back to bite you.” 

The girl just laughed, startling the rich boy a little. “It won’t,” she assured him. “I don’t know why, but I can feel it. In fact, I’ll make another bet. I bet we’ll be friends by the end of the week!”

Damian observed the girl, making contact with her vibrant blue eyes.  _ Honestly,  _ he thought exasperatedly.  _ Even when she doesn’t know who I am, she still treats me like something special. I don’t get it.  _ “No thank you. Taking part in petty bets is beneath me.” 

Marinette just laughed again. 

Damian scowled at his paper. 

_ I already lost your little bet.  _

He wanted to hear her laugh again. After the worry he had seen her bathed in the previous two nights, and the way she woke up in the mindspace both days with a nightmare about the attack that left her trembling, seeing her cheerful was relieving. He wanted it to stay. 

—*—*—*—*—*


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay. One of you (you know who you are (;) got this information before the rest of you because they were the only one who answered my question. 
> 
> So now this story has a tumblr, where you can find exclusive Tumblr stuff and ask me questions and junk. I’ll do requests, answer headcanons, and any Omakes (extra scenes) or one shot stories that I won’t publish here will be up on the tumblr. 
> 
> It is under soulmate-game.tumblr.com
> 
> Have fun!

When Jon came over to see that his best friend wasn’t seated alone at lunch, the boy had no choice but to stop and gape. He knew first hand that the ex-assassin teenager was not anywhere near the easiest person in the world to get along with. In fact, Damian Wayne was pretty close to the  _ absolute bottom  _ of that list. 

And yet there she sat. A pretty girl of Asian descent with a French twinge to her words that told of exactly why Jon had never seen her before today. Her blue-black hair was tied in two low pigtails, somehow adding charm without making her look childish. And her bright, Neptune-blue eyes were focused on his friend— on Damian “Ice Prince” Wayne— with  _ warmth and kindness.  _

The half-Kryptonian walked over to the table, setting down his lunch and taking his seat next to the youngest Wayne, his sapphire eyes never leaving the French girl sat across from them. His face was one of wonder and appreciation at first, but quickly changed to a bright smile once the girl’s attention was on him. 

“Hello! I’m Jon Kent, Damian’s best friend,” he introduced himself, earning an eye roll but no verbal disagreement from the raven haired boy next to him. “You must be an angel or something, Damian  _ never _ warms up to anybody this quickly!” 

The girl’s cheeks warmed up, turning pink almost immediately. She raised her hands in front of her in denial. “Ah, no, it’s really not a big deal,” she assured him. “I have a friend back home who behaves pretty similarly. She was pretty cold and wasn’t easy to get along with, so I just have practice, that’s all,” The girl stammered out. “I mean, you should have seen me when I first met Kagami. We didn’t get along at all at first. We were, uh, actually kind of rivals?” She laughed nervously a bit at that. “But she just didn’t have the easiest home life, and once I understood that, things got easier. Now we’re best friends and she doesn’t glare at me so often!” The girl beamed, clearly taking pride in getting so close to what the two boys assumed was a pretty prickly girl. If she compared her friend to Damian of all people, she couldn’t have been an easy person to deal with. 

“Hey, that sounds pretty familiar doesn’t it?” Jon teases, smirking at his friend. Damian grunted, looking away pointedly. 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about, Kent.” 

“Oh come on, we fought the first time we met each other. Look at us now!” Jon our an arm around Damian’s shoulder to make a point. The colder of the two teens just snorted, shrugging slightly in assent. 

“I suppose. Anyway, did you forget something?” He asked the girl, raising an eyebrow at her. She just blinked, looking adorably confused for a long moment before realization crept into her eyes. 

“Mon dieu! I forgot to introduce myself!” She put her hands on her cheeks in panic. “Je suis désolé, my name is Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’m the president of the French class that is going to be visiting here for the next few weeks,” she told Jon, smiling a bit sheepishly at him. “I got so distracted, I totally forgot to tell you that. Sorry!” 

The superpowered boy just chuckled, returning the smile with a friendly one of his own. “It’s no problem, don’t worry. I’m just glad someone else was able to get past this guy’s shell. He’ll never admit it, but he could use more friends.” 

“I can barely tolerate  _ you,”  _ Damian protested, though the glare he leveled his friend lacked any heat. Both blue-eyed teens sitting with him easily saw through the act, and grinned softly at the boy’s dishonesty.

The moment was swiftly ruined by a slimy, saccharine-sweet voice a few seats down saying—

“—rendez-vous avec Damian Wayne! Mon Damibear est si doux!” 

Jon blinked, confused since he didn’t speak French, and his eyebrows furrowed. Looking over, he saw both his seat mates looking like they had just sucked on a lemon. Even Marinette, who had been so sweet and cheery to him, looked disgusted and had her face screwed up sourly. 

“I’m a little lost. What did she say about Damian?” Jon asked, feeling left out. Both of the other teens looked over at him, Marinette jumping a little as if she had forgotten he was there. 

“Another lie of hers,” the pigtailed girl explained, her sour expression only slightly untangling. “She’s always saying something unbelievable, and the class eats it up. She has a way of wrapping them around her little finger,” she crunched a bit unnecessarily hard on the unfortunate apple slice she picked up next, showing her annoyance. 

“The liar said that she’s going on a date with me,” Damian elaborated, seeing that his friend’s confusion hadn’t gone away at all. “Apparently I’m sweet.” 

A bit of chocolate milk splashed when Jon couldn’t quite hold back his snort mid-sip. It brought a smirk to Marinette’s face, at least, erasing her disgusted expression. Quickly recovering, he looked over at his emerald-eyed companion. 

“No offense dude, you know I love you, but ‘sweet’ is not a word I would ever use to describe you. You’re more like a grumpy cat—I can’t help but want to pet you and I get scratched for my efforts.” 

Marinette giggled into her hands, nodding a bit in agreement. “Or he hisses,” she added with amusement, just making the subject of their conversation scowl at her. She was undaunted, her amused smile not leaving her lips. 

“But for real though,” Jon decided to change the subject, looking back at the girl with the odd hairstyle who had just lied about his friend. His usual protective nature bubbled up a bit in the buff teen, and he pushed his fake glasses up his nose a bit farther. “Should we confront her about the lie? It’s not cool to trick people like that, or to lie about others.” 

When he looked back over at the surprisingly silent French girl, Jon was a little surprised to see a very fond, and slightly shocked, look on her suddenly soft face. It was something close to appreciation for his words, mingled with some other bittersweet emotion that the teen couldn’t quite place. 

“She doesn’t speak English very well,” Marinette finally admitted, her expression shifting into something that was half worry and half contemplation. “She only knows survival English and some slang. Oh!” The girl’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting to Damian. “You understood what she said, right? Are you fluent in French by any chance?”

The grin that curled over Damian’s mouth was downright  _ feral,  _ and something that was very familiar to the half-kryptonian sitting next to him. Jon heaved a heavy sigh, dread curling in his stomach. That was the expression that Damian wore whenever he had a particularly devious plan that he knew would work, and was doomed to wreak chaos. And Jon couldn’t even do damage control because he would have no way to know what his friend was saying until it was far too late for damage to be reversed. 

“As a matter of fact, I  _ am,”  _ Damian confirmed, his back straighter than usual and his tone almost a devious  _ purr _ . Without another word the young man stood up, dusted off his clothes and straightened any wrinkles, and walked over to the liar and her entranced posse. 

When Jon looked over at the former Al-Ghul’s newest friend, he saw that Marinette’s face was now a paper-white blend of mortification and morbid curiosity. She was obviously stuck between watching the obviously doomed shitshow play out, or going over to try and soften the blow for her classmates. 

It took a few seconds but the moment that Damian started his confrontation, Marinette decided to take pity and rush over to perform damage control. 

Jon just started to eat his lunch quickly. Just in case the cafeteria had to be evacuated in a few minutes. 

—*—*—*—*

“Good afternoon. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation, what were you saying about dating Damian Wayne?” The smooth, charismatic voice that suddenly intruded on their conversation in perfectly fluent French was completely unfamiliar to the group of kids from Francois-Dupoint. Nevertheless, the promise of a new audience fed Lila’s enthusiasm like oxygen and kindling fed a fire. The Italian girl quickly swung her head around, and the two green gazes locked immediately. 

Many thoughts flew through Lila’s mind in that instant that her gaze connected with that of the stranger’s. For one, she  _ wished _ her eyes were as vibrant and dark of an emerald green as his, rather than the color of stomped-on wet grass. Secondly, he held the air of a predator. His gaze burned into her with a shadowy, primal challenge in them that made something deep inside Lila run cold in warning. She was inferior to him, his eyes told her. She couldn’t hope to win, they leered. She was trapped. 

But if there was one thing Lila was good at, it was lying and manipulation. So she turned her skills on herself, soothing the terror that tried to freeze her veins and putting on the air of a girl who was completely unintimidated. How dare this guy waltz up and try to overpower her with just a stare? The nerve of him! Lila Rossi was a  _ Queen,  _ and she deserved to be treated as such. The mishap on the previous Friday was a wake up call, and something that Lila was determined to turn around for her benefit. 

She would not let anyone terrify her or send her into dramatics like before. If she cried, it was going to be  _ purposeful _ and for her own gain. Never again would she let herself be seen genuinely bawling her eyes out, never again would she allow her mask to crack. She survived being held hostage by Gotham criminals, she would make sure the experience did nothing but harden her resolve. 

So Lila smiled at him with false sweetness, forcing a demure look into her eyes as she fluttered her eyelids twice shyly. 

“Oh yes,” she responded. “It must be pretty big news in this city, right? Unfortunately, my Damibear wants me to keep the news that we’re dating quiet, so that the paparazzi don’t ambush us. He’s really considerate, you know.” 

Unfortunately, that seemed to just make the stranger’s eyes darken with sadistic glee. One of his hands reached into the inside pocket of his blazer, pulling out a card. 

“You don’t say?” He responded, once again in perfect French. He kept his eyes on the card he drew out, playfully not looking at her anymore. He was treating her like a game. Like prey that he was just toying with until he got bored and delivered the final blow. Determined to persevere, Lila nodded as sincerely and innocently as she could. 

“Oh yes! We’re romantic soulmates, you know.” 

That’s when Marinette finally reached them, having heard every word. She looked nervously between the two, her expression pensive but expectant. Lila’s eyes narrowed. Marinette was in on this? 

Of course she was. Marinette was the biggest thorn inner side. But Lila  _ owed  _ her now. It was a sour pill to swallow, but when they got back to France, Lila would have to make sure the next Akuma went easy on the pigtailed girl. After that, she would consider them even and go back to being ruthless. She would never let herself get indebted to Dupain-Cheng ever again. 

“Oh, really?” The stranger asked again, his voice  _ dripping _ with secret amusement. He looked over to Marinette, as if inviting her to share his private joke. To Rossi’s absolute  _ fury _ , the class president actually had to suppress a grin. As in, Lila saw her hide it behind one hand before the French-Asian girl composed herself. 

She was in on this! If Marinette did anything to ruin her hold over this class, she could kiss any favor from Lila goodbye. 

“Because, you see, I have never met you before in my life,” the stranger spoke up again, raising his eyes to meet Lila’s once more. “And those words on your hand is your soul mark, right?” He nodded to the swirling navy blue words on the back of Lila’s left hand. They were beautifully stylized, and in Italian. They read; 

“L'amore vede attraverso tutte le bugie”

Love sees through all lies. 

He raised his own left hand, showing it was blank. “I have no physical soulmark at all, did you know that?” 

Lila’s eyebrows furrowed. What was this boy on about? “No, but what does that have to do with me dating—“ all the muscles in her face suddenly relaxed in shocked realization, her jaw dropping as she felt the color fade from her flesh.  _ Oh.  _

The stranger—  _ Damian Wayne himself _ , turned the card he held around to reveal that it was his student ID. His name was boldly proclaimed right under his picture, and above the card’s barcode. 

She had just lied about him to his face. 

Marinette could do nothing but look around at the faces of her classmates as realization dawned on them. This was not something Lila could lie herself out of. The proof of her dishonesty stared back at them blatantly, both in person and from a Gotham Academy ID card. 

“I don’t appreciate being lied about,” he continued as he tucked said card back into the pocket inside his blazer. His eyes never left Rossi’s, his gaze cold and sharp and smug. “And I can assure you, I am not a very compassionate person. In fact, if I hear any more false accusations about me or my family, I will sue you for slander. And I seriously doubt any worthwhile universities will be willing to accept a student with a record of—“

“That’s enough, Damian,” Marinette finally found the ability to interject, her own gaze suddenly hardened into an unforgiving gunmetal blue. She would not be swaying and her resolve would not be cracking anytime soon, and Damian seemed to pick up on that almost immediately. He let out an annoyed sigh, like a kid whose favorite toy was just taken from them. “You’ve exposed her lies, but I won’t let you threaten her. She can deal with the consequences of her actions on her own,” the petite asian looked over at Lila, no pity present in those usually overly kind and expressive orbs. “Let her rest in the grave she dug herself.” 

Lila felt tears of anger bubble up, and decided to use them to her advantage. She let the tears stream out, releasing a loud sob. 

“I-I-it’s true! I lied about d-dating you, and I’m sorry, but I,” she added in a few sniffles for effect. “I just couldn’t help it! I haven’t been able to f-find my real soulmate even though I-I’ve searched all over Italy for him. I g-got desperate and w-wanted people to think I was h-happy even though n-not having f-f-found him yet makes me cry myself to s-sleep every night!” 

The dramatics did their job, the liar suddenly having a crowd of protective, gullible, sympathetic French teenagers huddled around her whispering condolences and understanding. Damian sneered at the sheep as they comforted the very person manipulating them. No, they were worse than sheep. They were rats following their personal Pied Piper, lured by the sweet songs she gave without ever thinking twice about their origin or where they led. 

Marinette’s girl on his bicep distracted him, making him look down into the insistent face of his soul mate. She glared up at him with a clear message in her eyes—  _ don’t bother, they aren’t worth it.  _

Jaw clenched with barely suppressed anger and frustration, Damian nodded and let the smaller girl lead her back to their table with Jon. 

“Your classmates are idiots,” he told her bluntly, once he was given a few minutes to angrily eat his lunch and let some of his fury burn off into imaginary steam over his head. If there was one thing he absolutely couldn’t  _ stand,  _ it was idiocy. Her class was crawling with it. 

The pigtailed girl, having just bit into one of the macaroons she had brought with her, blinked for a second before her whole face slumped with sad understanding. Swallowing her bite of cookie, she nodded I’m disappointed agreement. 

“Yeah. Alix and Adrien are immune to Lila’s words, but everyone else…” she sighed, suddenly looking much more tired than anyone her age should have to look. The expression suddenly brought the bags under her eyes to attention, and Damian had the sudden image of Todd superimposed over her own for a terrifying breath of time. “I think they suspect her. Several of her lies have come to light only for her to come up with some story to make them forgive her, like what she just did. But even if they suspect she’s lying, I don’t think they want to know the truth anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, confused. Why would anyone want to be lied to and used like that? Marinette gave him a wan smile, exhausted and disillusioned and terrifying coming from the girl who had been so extremely joyful just a few minutes earlier. 

“The truth is ugly. Lila promised them a lot of connections and job opportunities and things they really want. Things she can never actually give them. If they acknowledge that she’s lying, that means acknowledging that they gave so much effort and time and so much of their own emotions over to her for nothing. They don’t want to believe that they could have been fooled into doing things they know are wrong by someone who was never acting in their best interests after all,” she explained tiredly. “Lila made several couples break up under the guise of it being better for them. She told Alya so many lies that Alta’s blog is now riddled with them, and if she isn’t careful Alya could get sued for the misinformation on it. They all want to believe the best in her, and she used that against them,” Marinette poked idly at the salad on her tray. “Once Lila’s tower of lies comes crumbling down, it’s going to take all of them with her. I can’t do anything about that anymore. I tried, in the beginning, but nobody listened to me. Now it’s out of my hands.” 

Jon hummed, a sharpness he didn’t usually have coming into his own clear blue eyes. Seeing how hurt Marinette was by all of this just stoked his protective instincts again. Marinette was a sweet girl, and obviously a good person if she got through Damian’s defenses so easily. “Maybe they deserve it, then,” he told her, earning a shocked look from both her and his friend. Jon wasn’t typically so unsympathetic, but he was also a hero at heart. Marinette’s classmates were the villains in this situation, and she was the victim. They didn’t deserve his sympathy. “You shouldn’t feel bad for them, Marinette. They did this to themselves.” 

“...Maybe,” Marinette didn’t look convinced. 

—*—*—*—*—*

Adrien sat in his hotel room, staring down at the ring in his palm. 

“I don’t know if I can do this, Plagg,” the blonde admitted, and the small black Kwami had never seen his holder look quite so vulnerable before. The catlike god sighed, ears drooping. 

“I know, kid,” he agreed softly, floating over to lay a soft paw on Adrien’s hand. “This isn’t easy for me either. You’re one of my cats, you know that? Forever. This isn’t the end of that, you hear me? You’re my bud,” the kwami smiled sadly at the model, who gave an equally shaky smile back. “But Ladybug is strong. She won’t have to put me back in the box right away, so I can come visit you all the time. I’ll still be here for you.” 

“Even if I can’t be Chat Noir anymore?” He asked, his voice breaking. Plagg winced as a tear fell down Adrien’s cheek. 

“Being Chat Noir isn’t what made you my bud,” Plagg assured him softly. “You’re a hero, kid. You still don’t have the whole school thing down, and I still think you should try to put that Lila chick in her place, but at your core you’re still a hero. You care about everyone and you try to do the right thing,” Plag flew up to give Adrien the best big he could with their size difference, essentially just hugging his cheek. Adrien appreciates the comfort all the same, raising his free hand to return the pseudo hug. 

That was when a portal opened up in the hotel room, and Ladybug stepped through. With a soft word, she separated Kaalki and Tikki, closing the portal and going back to her normal uniform. She didn’t say anything right away, her eyes soft and empathetic as she looked down at the scene in front of her. 

Adrien gulped, standing up despite the weakness in his legs. Everything felt weak for him these past few days. He thought Ladybug would have a good answer for him, a solution to fix the problem, but he knew from the beginning that it was wishful thinking. Not every problem could be solved happily and tied up with a pretty bow. 

“Ladybug,” he greeted dully, looking down at his hand instead of at her. “You know, I was really hoping the whole identity reveal thing would be much cooler than this. Last year I imagined it would end in a date and a confession, and last month I hoped it would end with a friendly fist bump or a platonic bond,” he admitted softly, the hand holding Plagg’s ring trembling in the air. “I never thought I’d be giving this away.” 

“Me either,” Ladybug agreed sadly, walking forward a few steps but being careful not to get too close. She would let Adrien hand the ring over willingly, she wouldn’t press him. This was already a horrible situation. “But your life is more important than Chat Noir. Plagg can visit you whenever you want, too. I don’t plan on putting him back in the box. The Cat has to stay active to balance the Ladybug, after all,” she tried to console him, offering a lopsided smile. “And in a few weeks, once your body recovers, you might even be able to get the ring back once in a while. Not for very long, but maybe Chat Noir can make a few appearances in Paris again.” 

Adrien knew that would be bittersweet. He could never be a permanent holder for Plagg again. Getting the ring back for only a day or two at a time… he didn’t know if he would ever be strong enough to accept that offer. 

“Here,” he finally mustered up the energy to hold the ring out, stubbornly keeping his eyes averted. “Hurry and take it, or I might just run away with it.” 

Ladybug did as he asked, gently taking the ring from him and curling her own fist around it. She hesitated. 

“Adrien,” she started softly. “Since you had no choice in the matter, I can detransform. Make it fair,” she offered softly. To her surprise, the blond shook his head vigorously. 

“No. I can’t guarantee that I won’t be Akumatized over this when we get back home,” he admitted. “I would have been Akumatized already if HawkMoth had been here. I might not be your partner anymore, but I won’t give that bastard any advantage over you. The less I know about your identity, the better.” 

“Oh, Adrien,” Ladybug laid her empty hand on his shoulder. “We don’t always get along, sure, and your puns have always annoyed me, but you will  _ always _ be my partner, chaton. Just like you will always be one of Plagg’s cats. And you don’t have to be in a costume or have powers to be a hero.” 

The blonde took a deep breath, lunging forward and pulling Ladybug into a tight hug. It was a little weaker than usual, but it got the point across. Ladybug hugged him back instantly, silently mourning the loss of her partner. She could only hope that he could recover from this, and maybe even come out stronger on the other side. 

“I’ll always be here if you need help, Bugaboo.” 

“And you know I’ll be here for you, minou.” 

When Marinette de-transformed in her own hotel room ten minutes later, it was with a heavy heart. Tikki flew over carrying a necklace chain, which Marinette took silently and slipped the ring onto. Clipping the chain around her neck, she tucked the ring under her shirt and took a deep breath. Both Creation and Destruction were on her now, the two Kwamis floating in front of her. Nobody was meant to handle both of their powers for long, nobody was meant to wield both of their Miraculous for any extended period of time. 

But Marinette but not just anybody. She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the True Ladybug of this generation, the strongest Ladybug Tikki has ever chosen. So, even with the power of destruction running over her body with a brief flash of pain, Marinette knew she would be fine. Not for forever, but… 

“Yeah, you’ll do fine, Bug,” Plagg purred gently. “You have enough endurance to avoid backlash until we can find the new Cat.” 

Marinette looked into Plagg’s unnaturally green eyes grimly. “I hope you’re right. Paris can’t lose both of it’s heroes.” 

“Plagg’s not wrong, Marinette, don’t worry,” Tikki assured her, flying over to sit on her holder’s shoulder for comfort. “You’re the human that embodies Creation the most out of any mortal currently alive. You will balance out the ring’s energy for more than enough time. And even if we’re wrong, I will keep you alive until we find the True Cat. Don’t you worry about that, my little ladybug.” 

—*—*—*—*—*


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which plot stuff happens but the chapter reads sort of like an interlude..? Don’t worry, more Daminette in the next chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m tired of questioning this anymore. I just stared at the 80 fucking notes my second oneshot got on tumblr in less than a day and felt thoroughly disassociated. I still think the numbers are lying to me but whatever. I think I need to stop questioning this. Apparently my writing is adequate and you guys are amazing as shit.

Paris. 

City of lights, city of love. One of the top vacation spots in the world, especially for couples. The louvre, the bakeries, the Eiffel—

Oh wait. Yeah. The Eiffel Tower was wrecked. 

Which didn’t seem to concern the locals at all. When Dick asked why nobody was panicking, despite knowing about Ladybug’s Cure, the person he had pulled aside just shrugged and said; 

“It’s a typical Tuesday.” 

So apparently HawkMoth and his villains had a thing against the Eiffel Tower. Yeesh. 

Sighing heavily and allowing the civilian to finish getting into a shelter, the out-of-costume hero turned and surveyed the scene. This Akuma was much worse than Super Cat Lady. Not even a full four days into his trip to Paris, and there had already been two Akumas. Sure, Gotham had the same or even more big villains attack per week, but that was more than _one_ person. More than one mastermind or rogue. This, in Paris? This was just one overly obsessed asshole. It was a little mind boggling how often he was active. 

Nonetheless, Dick ran down alleyways and shortcuts until he was able to reach the penthouse he was staying in and change into his uniform. It was a testament to the strength of the Akuma that damage was still being done when Nightwing started running over rooftops. The cat lady had been taken down pretty quickly, this guy on the other hand was still going strong after more than an hour. 

And when Dick finally reached the center of the action, he could see why. It was eerily similar to a mass Scarecrow attack. Some people who were hit with a ray from the man’s hand turned into panicking, sniveling messes on the ground. In full blown panic attacks. The other half ended up in a furious rage, blindly attacking anything or any _one_ near them. It didn’t seem like they were having visions or anything though, just like they were exhibiting pure forms of emotion. The panicked people had no idea what they were panicking about, just that they couldn’t calm down. The angry people couldn’t form any thought or words, just blindly attacking. 

“The right hand is anxiety, the left hand is blind anger,” a feminine voice said next to him, making Dick look over to the girl who had surprisingly almost snuck up on him. Would have, actually, if he hadn’t heard the slightest shift of her sword against her back when she got behind him. Color him impressed. 

It was the only of the Parisian heroes that he hadn’t met, besides Chat Noir. Ryuuko. And as soon as he heard the tone of voice she spoke in, saw her weapon and her stance, and most of all the _look_ in her eyes, he briefly imagined Damian in her place. It was almost uncanny, the similar ways that they carried themselves. Uncanny, but not identical. The aura around Ryuuko was cold and definitely warned people away, but it wasn’t a violent aura necessarily. Not like Damian’s. And she was calculative and detached, he could see in her eyes, but not ruthless or bloodthirsty like his youngest brother. 

But regardless. Enough similarities were present for Dick to be both concerned and comforted. This girl would at least know what she was talking about, and not speak up unless she was positive she was right. 

_Kinda like Cass too, actually. That’s scary._

“Yeah? Any idea why they were Akumatized?” He decided to stay on topic, keeping one eye on the temporary villain and another on the hero behind him. She nodded once, decisively. 

“He had an anxiety attack at work. When he tried to get comfort, his family told him to ‘suck it up’ and stay professional. When he responded angrily, they got mad that he didn’t keep his cool and stay respectful to them.” 

Dick let out a harsh breath, shaking his head. The poor kid had already had a rough day, and the HawkMoth comes along and does _this_ shit? Dick wanted to punch the guy more than ever. Knock out a few teeth. 

“So the right hand makes people feel his anxiety, the left hand takes away people’s ability to respond rationally,” he concluded, taking a deep breath before he fell into the second group without the need for Akuma abilities. “Can people do more research on mental health, please? This is ridiculous.” 

“I agree,” Ryuuko said with a shrug. “But we cannot help the base issue until he is no longer and Akuma.” 

“And then we can force them into family therapy, right? Good plan,” Nightwing nodded, standing up. “Akumatized item?” He was missing something. Nightwing stiffened. “Wait. Normal people with out of control emotions can’t wreck the Eiffel Tower.” 

“Nope,” Viperion landed on the rooftop they were on, his hair looking ruffled. He had been fighting for a while, then. “Two Akumas today. Good news? The second one was just Gigantitan again. Poor kid pretty much grew up with this happening to him, so he’s fine now. Tower won’t be coming back until Ladybug gets here, though.” 

How did he miss a giant child? Maybe that had happened when he was still shopping indoors. Shaking the thought away, Nightwing focused back on the matter at hand. 

“I can help thin the raging crowd a little, but even if Ladybug's cure I don’t want to hurt them. Have any of you contacted her?” 

“Queen Bee is calling her now,” Viperion confirmed. “But she won’t be able to come to our aid until they hang up. Her poison is best suited for crowd control.” 

Nightwing nodded. “Exactly. Other than the rays, what superhuman abilities does… uh what’s their name?” 

“Disco Panic,” The two Parisian heroes droned, clearly accustomed to the lame names HawkMoth gave his Akumas. After a brief moment of bluescreening, the Gotham vigilante shook his head and decided to make fun of the villain’s naming habits later. 

“As for abilities, it seems like the normal Akuma skill set. They can jump over buildings, run faster than a baseline human, and have enough strength to at least throw cars around like pillows.” 

Nightwing wrinkled his nose at Ryuuko’s assessment. “Great. Good thing you guys can do all that when you’re transformed, too. So here’s the plan. When Queenie comes back, she’s on crowd control. Ryuuko, you use your water dragon to trap Disco Panic in place long enough to Viperion to lunge in and take the Akumatized item. Which, by the way, is..?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“His sunglasses,” Viperion answered, pointing to the items the man was wearing. “He wore them so he didn’t get blinded working outside, I think they were the only thing that kept his attack at bay for so long.” 

“Great. So we know what to do?” 

“Oh wow, I’m not used to someone else making plans for me. Thanks, Nightwing!” Ladybug had arrived, it seemed, looking a bit more tired than before. The Gotham vigilante shrugged it off. Being a hero was doomed to make a person tired, and Ladybug had a lot on her shoulders. He couldn’t expect her to be peppy all the time. 

“Okay, change of plans. Ladybug will rush in once Ryuuko traps Disco Panic, and Viperion will stay on the side to rewind time if anything goes wrong. Do you agree, Ladybug?” Nightwing made sure to legitimately turn to her and genuinely want her opinion. “I want to provide my experience to help you guys, but this is your city when everything is said and done.” 

The spotted heroine seemed caught off guard by that, eyes widening for a moment before she blinded him with a grateful smile. 

“Your plan is perfect, couldn’t have made a better one myself. Can you help Queenie on crowd control, though? I rather her not attract too much of HawkMoth’s attention since he knows who she is.” 

Nightwing nodded, easily agreeing to this amendment. He even grinned. “That’s a good catch. Everyone ready?” 

Once that was settled and Queen Bee arrived on the scene, the Akuma was taken care of fairly quickly. Ladybug ended up having to use her Lucky Charm, which summoned up a blanket that she used to temporarily blind the guy and knock off his glasses at the same time, allowing her to swipe up the item and snap it in half. One swarm of ladybugs later, and the Eiffel Tower was no longer a pile of crumpled metal and everyone was of their sound and rational minds again. 

If Ladybug spent a good few minutes convincing the poor guy and his family to take a few group therapy sessions, well, Robin didn’t have to know. 

Because it was bad enough he knew she was woken up at five in the morning. Chloé’s call had pulled her straight out of their mind space. When Ladybug went back to her hotel room and decided to try and sleep again, she did so hoping that Robin wouldn’t catch wind of exactly _when_ the newest Akuma had shown up in Paris, or when Ladybug had appeared to help finish it off. 

At the same time, however, Dick Grayson made a call to his adoptive father. 

“Bruce? Yeah. These heroes have everything under control for now, and we have the Zeta Tubes if there’s an emergency. I think, for now, it’s best if I head back to Gotham and we all talk about what I learned in person.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

When Adrien Agreste woke up on Tuesday morning, he felt weird. It was an amalgamation of emptiness and energy. So, he did what every other bonded person did when hopelessly lost and confused. 

He called his soulmate. 

The phone picked up on the third ring. “Moshi moshi, Adrien?” The lovely voice of Kagami Tsurugi filtered over the line. “Hold on. 母さん、ちょと持ってください。アドリアンくんです。はい。わかります。 Sorry, you caught me in the middle of training.” 

“Isn’t it the middle of the day, though?” He asked, looking at his clock. It would be around one-o’clock in Paris. Kagami snorted. 

“Yes, but mother decided that the Akuma attack a few hours ago was reason enough to excuse me from school early and make sure I can defend myself adequately enough to not be turned into a buffoon by an Akuma’s abilities. Her words, not mine. Apparently winning a gold medal last year has not eternally sated her like we hoped,” even though the girl’s words were bitter, her tone was light and playful. She had really unwound a lot in the past couple years, and so had her mom. Kagami would never be completely normal, but she was finally able to experience a bit of an average teenage life. “But that is not why you called. What is wrong?” 

So Adrien told her. Since he no longer had the ring, he didn’t feel the need to hide his identity from his soulmate any longer. And, like always, Kagami listened silently and without judgement until Adrien was done getting her back up to date. His Japanese girlfriend sighed on the other end. 

“And how do you feel today? Physically, first,” she asked. The blonde frowned, focusing so he could answer honestly. 

“I… uh, good, actually. My legs don’t feel like pudding, and my chest doesn’t hurt so much. It still feels heavy, and my head aches a little. I can tell my strength isn’t totally back, but I don’t feel like I’m about to collapse.” 

“That’s good. And mentally? How do you feel after what Ladybug said, and everything else that happened?” 

“Losing Plagg makes me feel empty,” he admitted softly, hugging his knees to his chest with his free arm. “He was my best friend. And being Chat Noir was my release, you know? I didn’t have to worry about being Adrien Agreste, I could just be _me._ I could let loose and nobody would punish me for it. And now that’s gone.” 

“No, it isn’t,” Kagami denied, her tone not allowing any room for argument. “You have me, now. While we are together, you can be whoever you want to be and I shall never punish you for it. If you cannot trust your soulmate with all that you are, then what good is having one?” 

Adrien had no answer for that at first, a small disbelieving laugh bubbling up. Bonded to her for almost four months, and he still hadn’t figured it out. Yeah, he could be himself with Kagami. Why did he ever think otherwise? A curl of warmth rose up to fill a bit of that void in him. It would take a while to heal, yeah, but with his soulmate’s help it wasn’t impossible. 

“There is more, isn’t there?” The fencer on the other side of the line asked. Adrien had to smile at that. She always seemed to know how he was feeling, and he knew part of that was their bond. Their marks would help them know when they weren’t being entirely honest with one another, or were hiding something that could hurt one or both of them. It was a fitting feature for the soul bond shared between two teens who still had a lot to learn about social interaction. 

“What Ladybug said… that I don’t need a costume or powers to be a hero,” he started to say, hesitating. “Kagami, maybe I’m going crazy over not having Plagg, but those words are making me want to stop laying down and letting Lila rule the class with lies. I know I said that it was best if we just didn’t rock the boat, that her lies weren’t hurting anybody, but,” the blond looked down at his legs, curling his fist in his sheets. “But yesterday Lila was called out, at Gotham Academy. She was telling people she was dating Damian Wayne, only for the guy himself to come up and expose her. He threatened to sue, Kagami. To ruin her whole future.” 

“That is well within his right, if she is spreading misinformation about him,” his girlfriend agreed calmly. 

“I know. I know, and maybe that and the situation with Plagg is finally waking me up, but Lila isn’t harmless like I thought. Lila is giving them all false hope. And what if the wrong person sees Alya’s blog and all the misinformation on it?” 

“She could get sued as well,” Kagami confirmed neutrally. Adrien threw his free hand up. 

“Exactly! And Rose could ruin her friendship with Prince Ali if she takes Lila’s words too seriously. And what if Mylene and Ivan keep thinking their bond is platonic because of her? And… and…” Adrien took a deep breath, hitting the back of his head against the wall behind him. “Oh, Kagami. I made a huge mistake, didn’t I?” 

“Yes,” she agreed ruthlessly, but not without any care in her voice. “I told you I did not agree with your stance on that class and the liar, but our bond was still new so I did not want to push it. Being complacent with somebody like her will only allow her to dig her talons into her prey deeper. Meanwhile, you may lose things you hold dear without realizing it. Tell me, Adrien, has Lila truly not been hurting anyone this whole time?” 

“I—“ Adrien paled. Maybe the new emptiness, the lack of thoughts about Chat Noir, the fact that he didn’t have to worry about Akumas or keep himself on guard, or maybe the wake up call from Wayne the previous day, maybe one or all of those things finally pushed Adrien over the necessary edge to see what he had been ignoring.

Marinette, getting framed. 

Marinette, at the back of the class with only Alix as an ally. 

Marinette, always the subject of Lila’s unsubtle ire.

Marinette, silent and growing ever more nervous and twitch as time went on. 

Marinette, who would never hurt anybody, getting left behind in Gotham City because of Lila Rossi and the animosity she made the class fell for Marinette because of nothing but lies. 

Marinette, who Adrien can considered his first ever friend at Francois Dupoint. 

“Oh, Kagami,” he groaned, hand over his face. “How the hell am I supposed to fix that? I good as abandoned her!” 

“You did. But the funny thing about mistakes is, once you know why you made them you can avoid ever repeating them. But if you repeat them, not even I can console you because then I would not forgive you, either.” 

“I… you’re right. I just need to forget about Destruction for a bit, and focus on fixing this. On fixing everything. And not letting it break again.” 

“And I will help you, Adrien. I need to go now, before Mother throws a fit about taking too long. Call me back if you need anything, anything at all. Understand?” 

“Of course. And Kagami? Thank you.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

When Marinette walked into the hotel lobby, a strange sight greeted her. Lila was seething, jaw dropped open with Madame Bustier similarly shellshocked nearby. 

“Adrien, you know Lila often needs your help keeping her balance. She gets lightheaded very easily,” the teacher almost begged the blond model, who was standing in an uncharacteristically stern pose, his back straight and arms crossed. Marinette hadn’t seen him so unshakeable and strong willed since before Lila came back to the class. It was like a light was returned to his eyes. 

“Miss Bustier, you know Lila doesn’t actually have a problem with her balance. She just likes to hang on to me because I’m well known in Paris. She never asks for or cares about my actual opinion about things, and she drags me around like a doll. I’m tired of it.” 

“But, Adri-bear!” Lila squealed, forcing up her usual crocodile tears. “I thought we were besties! You always loved hanging around me, and— and now…” she began to sob, but Adrien didn’t move a muscle. 

“I’m not falling for it, Lila. I never fell for your fake tears. I should have spoken up a long time ago, but I was still trying to get used to being part of a class. I didn’t understand how toxic you were, how toxic you _are,_ but I get it now,” his green eyes, so much brighter than they had been the last few days, swung over to Marinette’s form just a few steps out of the elevator. He offered her a small, regretful smile. “And I know not everyone is gonna be able to forgive me right away for staying quiet. I made a lot of mistakes. But a friend of mine told me that I don’t need powers or a costume to be a hero, and I think I’m ready to try to live up to that. Being a hero means doing what’s right even when it’s hard or painful. So. Sorry, Lila, but I’m not staying quiet anymore. You’re a liar, and you’re manipulative, and my first step towards earning forgiveness is no longer letting you drag me around.” 

“But—But your dad—“ Lila tried, only for Adrien to shake his head. His eyes still never left Marinette. 

“Some things are more important than my worry about what my dad will do if I disobey him. Like actually being a good friend to one of the first people to give me a chance,” he turned and walked straight over to Marinette, rubbing the back of his head. “I owe you a lot of apologies. I haven’t been a great friend, I left you alone and didn’t realize how badly Lila was hurting you. Even when I knew Lila’s words were causing you trouble, I just thought you were strong enough to deal with it and that isn’t right. Nobody should have to be strong enough to deal with any kind of bullying on their own. But… I want to make up for that. So, uh, if you’ll give me a third chance to prove I’m not a bad guy?” 

Marinette smiled a little at the subtle reference to their first meeting. She had thought he was a bully back then. 

“Fine, but you won’t be getting a fourth chance,” she teased, half-serious. 

_Huh. It’s not hard to talk to him anymore._ She realized somewhere in the back of her mind. _The wonders of soul bonds, I guess. Him getting one, and my own. And the fact that I don’t have rose-tinted glasses around him anymore probably helps._

Marinette nodded to the group of people huddled around a sobbing Lila. Alix glared at them from afar, but Ivan and Kim hung out near her, looking conflicted. 

“The class isn’t gonna escape Lila’s clutches that easily. But it looks like you got at least two new people to start backing away from her,” she told him. Her sharp blue eyes made contact with his green ones, and she just stood there and appraised him for a long moment as if looking for something. After a minute she seemed to have found it, grinning. “Come on, my friend Damian said he’d drive me to school today so that I didn’t have to ride the bus with Lila. Madame Bustier already agreed, so just make sure it’s okay for you to come with us and I’ll text him and see if he doesn’t mind.” 

“Marinette wait,” he called, putting his hand on her shoulder before she could walk away to call her friend. She tensed, turning her head to look at him quizzically. Adrien took a deep breath. 

“I really am sorry. For everything. And it means the world that you’re giving me another chance, so, thank you.” 

Marinette just chuckled, waving her phone playfully. “Don’t thank me yet, Damian isn’t exactly the most friendly person. If he agrees to pick you up too, then be prepared to be insulted at least ten times in the first two minutes.” 

Adrien laughed, feeling lighter than he had in quite a while. “I think I can live with that.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for what Kagami said: 
> 
> “Wait a moment, Mother. It’s Adrien. Yes. I understand.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Writer’s Block makes the chapter a little choppy, but still okay. Your author still has no idea what pacing is (are you surprised anymore?) but things get better as they go.

“So. This is the useless, goo-minded model of an ex-friend who decided to suddenly regrow the spine that had spontaneously combusted two years ago?” 

“That was three insults in ten seconds, Marinette,” Adrien pointed out, eyebrows high on his face, the blond impressed. 

“I forgot to say spoiled.” 

“Wow. You weren’t kidding,” Adrien shook his head, smiling slightly. “We can never let him and Kagami meet. They would be unstoppable.” 

Marinette, who finally decided to stop holding back her beaming smile, laughed cheerfully. “Also, this is Damian’s brother Tim,” she gestured to the slightly older man, who smiled politely and waved from his place in the passenger’s seat of the luxury car. Marinette was sat in the middle of the car’s back row, one rich green-eyed teenage heir to either side of her. 

“Also, Marinette,” Damian took hold of the conversation as Adrien introduced himself to his elder brother. “I notice you are wearing a new necklace. Any particular reason? It does not look like your usual style.” 

The pigtailed girl blinked, rubbing her hand over the simple silver chain that held Chat Noir’s ring under her shirt. It took all her willpower to not cast a glance at Adrien as she ran her fingertips over it.

“It isn’t, but a family friend gave me an heirloom of his for good luck,” she said slowly, testing out the lie that Tikki had helped her create the previous night. “I decided to put it on a chain and wear it under my clothes. Something tells me that I’ll need all the luck I can get this week.” 

Plagg was a bit grumpy at his ring being told to be a good luck charm when the truth was the exact opposite, but he had been suitably ignored by both Tikki and Marinette. The cat Kwami took a little too much pride in his unlucky and destructive powers. 

“So, I couldn’t help but notice you mentioned a Kagami. That wouldn’t happen to be the Olympic gold medalist fencer Kagami Tsurugi, who is rumored to be studying in Paris to improve her skills, would it?” Tim asked, turning in his seat to face the teenagers in the back. Marinette and Adrien both smiled widely, nearly blinding both Wayne’s present. 

“Oh yeah, that’s her,” Adrien confirmed, nearly bouncing in his seat. “She and I actually became soulmates almost four months ago,” Adrien pulled up his sleeve to show the stylized foil in stunning maroon on his arm. “She says I’m one of the only people who can still keep up with her in a spar. She’s ruthless,” Adrien’s face just got dreamier as he spoke. “She isn’t the best at socializing, but me, Marinette, and some of our other friends have been helping her out. She didn’t exactly get the best childhood, being raised to be the best fencer possible and compete at the Olympics and all. Kagami’s mom isn’t exactly the most friendly person you’ll ever meet, but somehow Marinette worked her magic,” Adrien chuckled a bit at the memory. “She just has this— this natural ability, I guess. Marinette, I mean. She knows exactly what to say and do in order to get someone to realize the mistakes they’re making. She had two conversations with Tsurugi-San. _Two._ And even though Kagami’s mom hasn't completely changed, she’s a lot more lenient now and actually makes an effort to be more sensitive in how she treats Kagami. That’s why I’ve always considered Marinette to be our every-day Ladybug,” he turned and offered the girl he was trying to earn the forgiveness of a small, sad smile. “Even if I haven’t really expressed that enough lately.” 

“Every day ladybug?” Tim asked, eyebrow raised. Marinette had her head in her hands out of embarrassment. 

“Adrien, nooooo!” 

She was ignored. 

The blond in the car nodded, eyes wide and shining with innocent enthusiasm. “Oh yeah. So Ladybug is Paris’s hero, right? She always manages to save the day, turn everything back to normal, and always looks after the city. But Marinette is like our hero without a costume. She always cares about our emotions, does her best to solve problems even for strangers, and cares about everyone she meets. She put together this whole trip— sure, it was funded because of the contest, but we never would have been able to come without Marinette’s planning and foresight. She did all this even though the majority of the class isn’t on good terms with her anymore. She had no obligation to do any of this for us, she could have just asked to come by herself, but she did all of it anyway. Because she cares even for people who aren’t nice to her.” 

“Nobody deserves to just stay in Paris when they have an option to escape for a while,” Marinette argued, frowning. “It’s a toxic prison with HawkMoth running around. Regardless of how the class treats me, everyone deserves a break from that.” 

Adrien just gestured to Marinette with his eyebrows raised as if to say, ‘you see?’ 

“I didn’t realize you were _this_ much of a boot-licker,” Damian sneered, eyes narrowed and distrusting towards the blond model. “Marinette may not have been able to tell me everything, but simple observation can fill in the blanks. You were a limp noodle around the liar just yesterday, and while I do not doubt that what you say about Miss Dupain-Cheng is true, it sounds far too close to flattery for my liking. She may be kind and forgiving, but let me assure you that I do not accept a traitor’s words so easily. You were clearly a cowardly slime just earlier this week, all fake smiles and weak assurances,” the Wayne heir leaned forward so his dark, piercing green eyes locked with Adrian’s own acidic ones. “How do I know you will not turn tail again? Abandon Marinette as soon as something difficult comes along again? Why are you _here_ , Agreste?” 

The fencer’s lips thinned, and he clasped his hands between his knees without breaking eye contact. “I was stupid,” he admitted, sounding far more tired than anyone their age should have to. “I was distracted. My home life isn’t the best, never has been. Pretty much all my experience in social interaction comes from these past three years in school with Marinette and the others. And no, that’s not an excuse. I knew Lila was lying, but I didn’t know how toxic it was. How toxic it would get. And when my father gave me the ultimatum to stay on Lila’s good side, I wasn’t brave enough to say no,” Adrian finally broke eye contact and looked down at his entwined hands. He clenched them tighter as he thought about the past week in Gotham. “But I got sick over the weekend. I’m still a little sick, but I’m getting better now. And I think it— the weakness, how bad I was feeling… suddenly waking up this morning feeling so much better physically helped me realize how _empty_ I felt. I usually ignore it in Paris because I can’t afford to get Akumatized. I wouldn’t forgive myself,” his jaw clenched. “But here, far away from HawkMoth, I finally saw it. Life in Paris sucks right now. The atmosphere in the class is draining. And I realized the only light in it still was being hurt, and I had ignored it. I called Kagami, she helped me realize just how badly I screwed up. I didn’t even realize the environment I had just left Marinette in, pretty much alone. I made a huge mistake,” he raised his eyes back up to Damian’s, the acidic, verdant eyes burning with new, renewed, determination. “I won’t make it again.” 

“Tt. See to it that you don’t, or I will.” 

“Oh, you didn’t mention he’d make a threat in the first ten minutes! We _definitely_ should never let him and Kagami meet.” 

“Stay intimidated you damn inconsistent ape!”

—*—*—*—*—*

“Everyone split up into teams. We’ll be going in groups of five, if you don’t want to participate you can stick to the top rows of bleachers,” the coach was instructing everyone gathered in the gym. Madame Bustier translated for those of the students who didn’t speak fluent English. It didn’t take long for Lila and her closest crew to move up to the topmost bleachers and away from the risk of being drafted to play basketball. 

Why would Lila risk breaking a nail for _sports_ , after all?

Marinette, on the other hand, still had a lot of energy to get rid of even if she had gone freerunning not that long ago with Robin and Red Hood. The ring sitting warmly against her chest did not at all help, its resonance with her earrings almost overflowing her with power and energy she was wholly unused to. She needed to vent it somehow, even if just a little. 

She didn’t think about how a lesser person would have already been consumed by that energy. 

The second the coach asked for volunteers for team captain, Marinette had never risen her hand faster for something. Nobody else had a chance (except Jon, but she didn’t have to know that. The kryptonian boy hadn’t made much effort anyway). The coach smiled widely. 

“Good, someone with enthusiasm! Wanna make it a Paris against Gotham game? Choose your team Dupain-Cheng. Wayne, you’ll captain the opposing team.” 

Marinette smiled widely in triumph, standing and immediately picking her team as her hand moved alongside her voice, pointing out her chosen teammates. “Alix, Kim, Ivan, Ad—if you’re feeling up to it, Adrien. If not, I can—“ 

“No, I’m good,” Adrien held up a hand to stop his pigtailed friend from devolving into stutters as he stood up. “I won’t get better lying around, anyway. Just go easy on me, Boss.” 

Marinette chuckled at that, turning to see who Damian had chosen. Jon, to nobody’s surprise. Four other people Marinette only vaguely recognized from classes. They all looked athletic and not too intimidated by the Ice Prince, which made the Parisian designer suitably wary of the group as they went to the center of the court to get started. 

“We’ll let the Paris team start this time, as a welcome to America,” the coach decided, handing the ball to Mari. He backed up until he was no longer in the way, and both teams got into their positions. “Ready… start!” 

Marinette’s eyes flew, knowing everyone was waiting for her first move. _Plan, plan— aha!_ Her lips curled into a smirk, and without warning she darted straight towards Damian’s team. 

The ex-assassin wasn’t about to let her go that easily though, of course, and ran straight to intercept her. Only, she took advantage of the way Jon almost instinctively followed Damian to cover his back, and tossed the ball around her green-eyed pursuer straight at the spectacled boy. Jon’s eyes widened, and he smiled. He thought for sure Mari had miscalculated, and put forth a burst of speed to catch the ball headed towards his chest—

Only for a blur of yellow to fly right in front of him, snagging the ball and carrying it further into the Gotham team’s side of the court. Jon pursued Adrien, who passed to Kim. The seasoned athlete had already skirted around the distracted crowd to end up close to the basket, and dunked the ball as soon as he caught it. 

Paris, 2. Gotham, 0.

Damian instantly whipped his head to stare at his soulmate, who had her arms crossed as she grinned at him smugly. 

That kind of wordless teamwork didn’t come out of nowhere though, and Damian felt his eyes narrow. If Chat was Adrien, and he and Marinette had started off such a seamless play, then his suspicions just got another support beam to hold them up. Maybe he would put effort into this game after all. 

“Jon, don’t follow me so closely. Marinette took advantage of you not watching your own back, _stay observant,”_ he told his friend, a clear double meaning behind his last two words. Jon raised two perfectly black brows, as if silently asking _are you telling me to cheat?_

Damian only nodded, dribbling the ball he had been handed as the teams went back to the center. 

Even with Jon tuning into his super senses to keep a better eye on the game, so to speak, they ended up tied at the end of fifteen minutes. 

20-20

Both teams made swift scores, but it was clear Damian and Jon were carrying their team while the Paris team was well rounded with Marinette and Adrien just slightly advanced leaders that they took silent cues from. 

Marinette was beaming widely as she breathed heavily, but wasn’t nearly as out of breath as her teammates. Adrien was so exhausted from his “illness” that he ended up sitting out the sudden death. 

It was down to Marinette and Damian glaring each other down in adrenaline-fueled glee as the coach held the ball in one hand, counting down. At zero, he tossed the ball up and both secret vigilantes _lunged._

Marinette jumped higher, managing to smack the ball first and get it into Alix’s grip. Their ball. 

SHE AND Damian both races, following the skater as she ran towards the Gotham Team’s goal. Alix was blocked. Ivan was being covered by two of Damian’s teammates, Kim by another. Alix had no choice but to pass to Marinette, but Damian was able to pull forward at just the right time to snag the ball. 

Marinette leaped backwards a good several feet, never taking her eyes off the emerald eyed teen. He put up a valiant defense, but Marinette managed to slap the ball away from him and dribbled it back to the right side of the court. 

Only to stop dead. She was surrounded, the three point line was ahead of her, none of her teammates were free. If Adrian had been in play, maybe… Jon was closing in front her left, she had to move before he or Damian closed in on her. 

So she took a deep breath, jumped straight up as high as she could go, and _threw._

The ball swished through the net, and the students actually watching roared in surprised and impressed shouts of approval. 

The Asian-French girl instantly got mobbed with hugs from her teammates, her head tilted back as she laughed in pure _glee._

Bluebell met emerald. 

Marinette winked. “Guess Paris is just better huh, _Wayne?_ ”

He would be lying if he said seeing her so breathlessly happy didn’t leave him similarly winded. Almost blinded by her brightness. 

_Yeah,_ he thought. _You were pretty spot on back then. You must be my personal Angel. I don’t know what else you could possibly be._

—*—*—*—*—*

A Valkyrie, Damian decided. Marinette must be a Valkyrie. A warrior angel who chose the dead from a battlefield to be taken to Valhalla. 

Why?

Because he was a Wayne, and as a Wayne he had several people (read: hundreds) who would like nothing better than to kidnap and ransom him to his father. 

Like now. The Riddler had caught him, Jon, Marinette, Adrien, and several others as soon as school ended. He was the only real target, but Riddler never turned down extra bait. He wasn’t as tough on teenagers as he was adults, but that didn’t mean lives weren’t still on the line. 

“Alright, kiddies. I’m a fair guy,” lies, “and I got a soft spot for kids. So, you can stay here obediently until Brucie boy up in his Tower sends me my money, or the Bats comes to his doom. Either way, you’ll be let out scott free afterwards. Or, you can leave,” he gestured towards the door in the lair they were in that proudly boasted a glowing red EXIT sign. “Any time you want,” he told them, smiling sinisterly. Because, of course, the only way to the exit was past a puzzle. 

“In order to leave, you just have to possess at least two brain cells to rub together. I know, a hard feat nowadays to manage. To get to the exit, you have to find a way past the trick wall in front of you. Just fair warning, every wall is a trick wall so don’t try to pull any fancy tricks. Each brick is either safe, a deterrent, or a trick. And be careful, tricks can either give you a paper cut or a haircut a few inches too low to cut only hair, if you can understand my meaning. If you were _smart,_ you’d just stay put.” 

And Damian stared at his Soulmate, who didn’t even know he was right then, as she was the only one standing as the rest of them sat. Damian and Jon were seated because they knew Batman and co. Would be coming soon to bail them out, and neither boy could risk outing their identity. But that didn’t seem to stop Marinette from staying standing up defiantly and analyzing their surroundings. 

“Are you gonna just stand there, or do something, little girl?” Riddler’s voice came back over the speakers. He wasn’t in the room with them, communicating over an intercom and attached TV screen. “Is your bravado all for show, or do you actually plan to escape?” 

Marinette turned her glare to the live feed on the flat screen. 

“I’m not the one hiding in a separate bunker, Riddler,” she retorted calmly. She was in a room with only Damian, Jon, a few of her friends, and walls of potentially dangerous traps. There were no gunmen this time. No immediate threats. Marinette could let a little Ladybug through this time. 

Her hands twitched with an urge to punch something that was just being amplified by the ring around her neck. 

Maybe a little Lady Noir could come through too, for a change. 

Riddler twitched, and Damian could only stare as his soulmate stared down a Gotham rogue and even insulted him without hesitation or fear in her stance or face. 

“Marinette!” Alix hissed, tugging at the girl’s uniform pants. “Get down! We’ll get out of here soon enough, don’t upset the supervillain!” She begged her friend. Marinette looked down at the pinkette, frowning. 

“No, Alix! He isn’t even brave enough to fight his own battles, he lets puzzles and traps and hostages do his dirty work. I’m not about to sit down and let him treat me like I’m some helpless little kid. I stay quiet enough at school,” she hissed back softly, not about to back down this time. The bit about their class made Ivan and Kim flinch, along with Max and Juleka, who had also been taken. Adrien would have flinched, but the basketball game alone had drained him of all his recovering stamina for the day. This added stress was getting to him. 

The blond, who had been eerily silent, started to cough. The pigtailed rebel of the group instantly turned to him, her face paper white as the model couldn’t seem to _stop_ coughing. Specks of blood dipped out of his palms that were covering his mouth. and onto the ground. 

“Shit,” Damian cursed. Jon wrapped an arm around the smaller boy, trying to get him to calm down and take deep breaths. 

“There. Slow and steady,” Jon whispered to Adrien. “I knew you were sick, bud, but I didn’t think it was this bad. No worries though, we’ll get you checked out as soon as we get outta here,” he assured the fencer before looking up and locking eyes with Marinette. She nodded. 

“Even more of a reason to get out as soon as possible instead of waiting around. Adrien needs a doctor. Max, is Markov..?”

The techie shook his head. “Back at the hotel, along with my better tech. My phone was taken.” 

The pigtailed teen sighed, but wasn’t surprised. She reached up and took out the ribbons in her hair, tying them together and ignoring the unusual feel of her hair being loose behind her neck. It was usually something reserved for bedtime, but she wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. 

“Alix, you have your roller blades on you, right?” The pinkette blinked in surprise before nodding, pulling the objects out of her bag. 

“Yeah, why?” 

Marinette didn’t answer, taking only one shoe and popping off two wheels. Alix made a face, but didn’t complain. 

“Ivan, you carry around extra hair supplies for Mylene, right?” She held out a hand without waiting for an answer. “Could you give me some rubber bands?” 

Holding her tied-together ribbons in her mouth, Marinette quickly tied the two rollerblade wheels together with the rubber bands, and tied her ribbons around the rubber bands to make them into a sort of axel. Makeshift yo-yo. She grinned, rolling the improvised weapon up and turning to the wall. 

“What are you doing?” Damian asked slowly, standing to cover her back. Jon could watch the civilians just fine, he wasn’t leaving his soulmate without an extra pair of eyes just in case. Marinette was rapidly scanning the wall separating them from the exit. 

“The wall is a puzzle, which means there has to be a pattern. All the bricks look pretty much the same, but we should be able to find the pattern without touching the wall if we look hard enough. We don’t have that kind of time though, so I’m going the old-fashioned trial-and-error way.” 

“What?” Damian barked, but didn’t get in her way. “You can’t be that reckless—“

“I’m not going to touch the wall,” she interrupted, rolling her eyes. “This is,” she used that moment to swing her makeshift yo-yo at a brick above everyone’s heads. It pressed in, and nothing happened. It just slid back to make a step. Marinette grinned, rewinding her DIY tweaking and swinging it at the brick right next to the safe one, which swung away to reveal a muzzle that shot a stream of fire above everyone’s heads. “Predictable,” she muttered with a triumphant grin. “If I’m right, anyway. This could just be beginner’s luck.” She rewound and swung the ribbon-wheel-rubber band contraption a few more times, setting off only a few more traps. The solution printed itself in her mind. 

Damian’s eyebrows raised, recognizing the pattern she was creating— or tracing— with her weighted whip. For a long moment, though only the other people in the room noticed, the two soulmates wore identical smug smirks.

“You got it,” Damian whispered, impressed and pleased before he surged forward. “Here, Get the lower ones. Your whip won’t reach the top of the wall, I’ll climb up and get those,” he offered, turning to make sure he had her approval. The girl’s face twisted into reluctance, clearly not wanting to put him in danger. The youngest Wayne put a hand on her shoulder, offering her a solid nod of reassurance. “I’ll be fine. I know the pattern now, and I have a fast reaction speed just in case. We also need someone to make sure there aren’t thugs waiting on the other side just in case, and I have a decent background in martial arts. Riddler doesn’t usually lie about his puzzles, but you can never be too careful with a Rogue.” 

Marinette’s lips thinned again, but she nodded. A few thuds of her improvised weapon later, and Damian had the footholds necessary to climb up and press the bricks that were too high to reach. 

The pattern made a question mark right in the center of the wall, but the top two rows of bricks before the empty space above the wall were all trick stones, meaning Damian had to carefully heave himself over and onto the platform waiting for them on top of the trapped obstacle. He took a quick look around before nodding to himself and looking down. 

“All clear! Send Adrien up first,” he called, holding his arm down so he could help the Agreste heir when he got high enough. “Be careful not to press against these stones, you’ll set off a trap. When you pull yourselves over, keep your body straight and away from the wall,” the civilian-dressed vigilante instructed after they all successfully helped Adrien over onto the platform. Behind them, Riddler was suspiciously quiet and the TV didn’t turn back on. 

They soon found out why. Only Marinette, Jon, and Max were still on the wrong side of the puzzle wall when a hidden door was kicked in and Batman stormed in alongside Red Robin. Both vigilantes froze at the sight of the unharmed teens already almost out. Marinette waved to them sheepishly, and Damian groaned. 

“You mean there was a door there the whole time?” He groused, annoyed. 

“It’s for the best,” Red Robin told him, shaking his head. “The riddler’s bunker was back there, and it’s a dead end unless you wanna squeeze through broken windows. Red Hood is tying him up right now, he’ll come out behind us. Though, we didn’t expect you all to already be almost out.” 

Batman shot his grapple at the top of the wall, beckoning to Max and Marinette as Jon scrambled up the solved puzzle wall. “Let’s make this go by faster.” 

Ten minutes later, and everyone was out. Red Hood manhandled Riddler away to the cops, and for the second time on their trip Marinette and her friends found school blankets settled over their shoulders. 

“Well,” Max started, blinking. “I kinda expected worse, actually.” 

Juleka nodded, tilting her head. “Yeah, that was kinda… tame…” 

Marinette sighed, looking over at the two. “Of course,” she answered shortly, no longer patient with her classmates (no longer friends) now that they were all out of danger. “Riddler has a known soft spot for kids, and this was just a ransom scheme. Riddler’s actually been reforming for the past few years too, he most likely just had a relapse. None of his schemes for the past two years have been nearly as convoluted as beforehand and they are all months apart. Which you would know if you did my suggested research into Gotham’s rogues that I gave you before the trip,” she told them monotonously. She was done coddling them, they didn’t seem nearly as phased by this Riddler fiasco as they did by the failed robbery the week before. Then again, no guns or deaths were involved this time. 

“That is correct, Miss Dupain-Cheng. Though I was hoping we wouldn’t see each other again so soon,” Batman spoke, approaching the group of teens as Hood and Red Robin explained things to the cops present. “But the puzzle was still something that should have taken at least an hour to solve. Good work doing it so quickly. And your improvisation is also impressive.” 

Marinette blushed, looking down at the contraption she still hadn’t taken apart. “It’s nothing. I know the kinds of things my classmates always carry around, and I knew we needed something weighted to trigger the bricks, so…” 

Batman grinned, a quick and very small thing that Marinette was sure she hallucinated. “Still, good work using your brain and keeping a cool head. You made our job easier. But let’s both try to keep any more excitement like this from happening on your trip.” 

Marinette laughed, nodding. “I don’t know what I can do to help with that, but I’ll do my best anyway.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

That night, after their daily spar, Robin braced his hands on his knees and panted. He was exhausted despite the fact that their bodies weren’t actually real in their mental world, and the physical strain was all simulated. Marinette had actually won, for the first time since they had begun the daily practice. 

“Woo!” Marinette raised her fists in sloppy victory, just as out of breath as Robin. “I must be on a roll today! Lucky!” 

“You’re Ladybug,” Robin suddenly blurted out. Normally he would have tensed at the slip, but for some reason the admission of his suspicion felt normal. Casual. Right. So he remained relaxed. Marinette went silent, looking over at him with a straight face for a long second before her lips slightly curled up at the corners. 

“And you’re Damian, right?” She shot back, her voice soft and gentle. They looked into each other’s eyes as they continued to pant, both of their accusations in the open between them now. 

Neither of them claimed to be innocent.

And that was okay. For some reason, neither of them minded that their identities had been found out. Maybe they had known for a few days, now. But they spent every night together, every sleeping hour in each other’s presence. They sparred. They gamed. Marinette was trying to teach him how to cook, and he was trying to teach her swordplay. 

They knew each other pretty well, for only having met twelve days ago. And they had a lifetime to keep getting to know each other. This was just the next step. The next piece of knowledge to fill out the puzzle of who their soulmate was. 

And it felt right to have it filled in, officially. 

—*—*—*—*—*


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! I am still not super confident in my pacing, but this is finally done and I’m actually kinda happy with this despite the pace still feeling off. 
> 
> Also, you have officially entered the Puppy Love stage. Enjoy it while it lasts, because it’s sickening and probably not staying around long lol. I love it, but sappiness needs to make way for Plot and Actual Emotions and Relationship Development and it will probably happen sooner rather than later.

“For the most part, the Parisian heroes have a decent setup,” Dick told the rest of the Batclan, in his Nightwing outfit minus the mask. “Ladybug acts as their strategist, trump card, and overall team leader. According to her teammates, Chat Noir would normally take a deputy roll but always followed her lead anyway. Ladybug’s final word regarding an Akuma is almost seen as law,” He explained, fingers steepled in front of his nose. “Obviously, with what Jason and little D said earlier, we won’t be able to see her and Chat Noir in action together anymore, but that doesn’t really matter if he doesn’t have the ability to be Chat Noir anymore in the first place.” 

  
  


“What’s more interesting is the fact that the Cat was Adrien Agreste,” Barbara added in her own two cents. “That means at least two of Ladybug’s team came from Bustier’s class at Francois Dupont. Adrien, and Chloé Bourgeois.” 

Dick nodded. “Yeah, But Chloé transferred schools so she stayed in Paris instead of coming on their trip here. From what I saw, besides being the deputy leader, Chat Noir was also their main heavy hitter and go-to distraction. Queen Bee is mainly a reserve hero brought in randomly, so she plays a wildcard role in the team. She’s the most mobile, and her paralysis is a pretty flexible ability. Sometimes she’s crowd control, sometimes she’s the getaway or the one used to bring backup or important supplies. Viperion is their failsafe. Ryuuko is their other heavy hitter, and probably the most versatile in the middle of a fight.” 

“So they’ve adapted well over the years being on their own,” Batman surmised, one hand gripping his chin between two fingers in a thinking pose. “But, if they have things as well under control as you say, what is keeping them from finding Hawkmoth and stopping this at the source?” 

At that, Dick’s frown just deepened. “Ryuuko said that there are several reasons behind that, but that the only one she and the others know of is that Hawkmoth and Mayura’s miraculous protects the villain’s identities just like the miraculous magic protects the identities of the heroes. Unless they detransform or directly reveal their identity, it is almost impossible to figure it out on your own without significant evidence. None of them have been able to get that necessary evidence.” 

“Let me guess,” Jason spoke up with a scowl, his knuckles tapping a soft rhythm on the table out of annoyance. “Only Ladybug and Chat Noir know about the other reasons.” 

Dick’s sigh was more than enough of an answer. Jason cursed, pushing his chair away and beginning to angrily pace around the Batcave. His scarred fingers tore brought his hair in potent frustration, a sneer curling his lips and baring his teeth. 

“What is  _ wrong _ with that Guardian guy? Putting so much trust and responsibility in the hands of a  _ kid _ with— what? What training does she have, what training do  _ any  _ of them have? Do you know, Dick, because I’m willing to bet that the bastard didn’t give her  _ any _ heads up, any preparation. He gave a child a massively powerful artifact, showed her a super villain probably twice or three times her age, and basically shoved her forward with a ‘good fucking luck, kid!’ Who the hell does that? Even Bruce trained us before taking us out on patrols, and he is nowhere  _ near _ the shining example of a mentor. Offense fully intended. Kids in this line of work  _ die _ , even with preparation and experience.  _ Adults _ die. Heroism isn’t pretty. But this guy just picked two probably random kids and signed them up for this life, who’s to say he even asked permission? Who the  _ fuck _ wants to bet with me that he didn’t give them a choice, huh? I fucking  _ dare _ you to bet against me. One hundred goddamn dollars, hell, I’ll bet my motorcycle.” 

“And that kind of outburst is why you aren’t going to Paris,” Damian chimed in, but everyone could see his clenched fists despite his teasing tone. Everyone knew that Jason, Damian, and Barbara had more right than anyone else in the room to be deeply disturbed by the information they were getting. Barbara’s own hands were curled tightly around her wheelchair’s arms. 

Sure, Dick and Bruce both had their close calls and, in Bruce’s case, kind-of-death, but it was those three who actually got their lives ended or turned upside down during childhood. 

Regardless, not a single Bat present was happy with the situation they were beginning to see had been existing in Paris for so long. Bruce ran a hand over his cowl. 

“I knew we should have put the Justice League Europe’s headquarters in Paris instead of London,” he muttered. Then, his eyes narrowed. Why hadn’t they put it in Paris? Diana had been working at the Louvre back then, everyone agreed that Paris was the better center for the extended JL. But right when they had been about to cement their agreement, suddenly London had seemed like a much better choice. But why? There was no logic behind the choice. And for Batman, of all people, to agree to an illogical change in plans without even realizing it… 

_ Maybe this miraculous magic’s more problematic than we know yet, _ the first Bat vigilante thought, fingers steepled in front of his lips. 

Damian, knowing that letting his father stew in his thoughts for too long could get dangerous for Marinette’s secret, decided to bite the bullet and broach the other topic that the others needed to be brought up to speed on. 

“Marinette figured out who I am last night.” 

Immediately, all conversation stopped and Damian was rewarded with his father’s sudden attention. The ex-assassin sighed, keeping his back perfectly straight in his chair and not backing down from any of the heavy gazes now locked on him. 

“Apparently being around me at school for a few days was enough for her to make the connection. Of course, it wasn’t hard for her to make the connection from me to all of you. She told me to give Jason a hug for her, since she also remembered a story from her research about the second Robin’s sudden disappearance, but we all know that will never happen. I’d sooner die a second time, which, by the way, I would have if I was capable of dying in our mental space because Marinette got me to admit my own death and almost choked me with her resulting embrace.” 

“She can keep a secret though, right?” Barbara, the only person who had yet to meet any version of Marinette besides the quirky ball of sunshine that ate lunch with them the previous weekend, asked with slight concern. “She’s a nice girl, but…” 

“I wouldn't worry,” Tim assured with a small smirk. “Marinette is hiding something of her own, I’m sure of it. I haven’t figured it out yet, but there’s no reason for her to be so clumsy in public yet capable of free running over Gotham rooftops with Jason and Damian without any problem. She outright contradicted herself, telling our civilian selves that she’s never done anything like Parkour before, while also telling our vigilante selves that she’s done parkour a  _ lot.  _ It isn’t our secrets I’m worried about.” 

Bruce hummed in agreement. “I don’t think Marinette will out our identities, it doesn’t seem like something she would do. Still, we obviously don’t have a clear enough picture of exactly who she is, either. I’m sorry, Damian, but we can’t just blindly trust her with who we are. Regardless of her connection to you.” 

Damian nodded, having already warned Marinette about that. They had done a lot of talking over the night, and he was pleased to note that she was a very skilled planner. Though, with what he had also figured out, he probably shouldn’t have been so surprised. 

“I know, and that’s precisely why we both decided to come out as officially dating tomorrow at school. That way, you will have an excuse to invite her to dinner that same night. She is prepared to win your trust.”

“That sounds like a threat,” Tim remarked slowly, eyes narrowing before he looked around to everyone else present. “Does that sound like a threat to anyone else?” 

—*—*—*—*—*

“So,” Marinette started, hanging from the very top of her pink rock wall, just a few short hours after the discussion the bats had had about her and her Parisian team. She turned her head to look over at Damian, who was climbing up to join her. They both perched on the ridge at the top of the wall, which acted like a seat for them to overlook their whole, small mindspace together. Neither of them noticed the small spark of green that certain rocks had gained in addition to their normal shade of pink. “How did it go?” 

Damian, completely unmasked for the first time in their shared mental world, snorted and side-eyed her. “Exactly as planned, as if you didn’t already suspect as much.” 

Marinette shook her head earnestly. “I hoped it had gone as planned, sure, but I didn’t really suspect it to.”

With a roll of forest green eyes, Damian flicked her on her forehead. “It seems your confidence still needs work.” 

The Asian girl next to him laughed, her azure eyes dancing with mirth. “Maybe all I need to boost it is a few days of walking around as your official girlfriend, Mister Ice King,” she teased. 

“You know, pushing you off of this rock wall wouldn’t hurt you,” Damian hinted heavily, though the grin on his face and the spark in his eyes drained any actual heat to his words. “But it would be endlessly satisfying for me, if you continue to tease.” 

“Oh, so you want me to keep teasing you?” Marinette twisted his words, mischief bleeding into her expression. Damian fought the urge to scoot back a bit, instead narrowing his eyes in challenge. 

“What are you pl—“

Overcome with a surge of confidence that she would forever blame on Plagg, Marinette surged forward and, with her hand coming up to cup the back of Damian’s head, placed a gentle kiss right on his lips. Both teens were overcome with the new sensation at first, their entire world seeming to dim a bit to accommodate the mood as their entire beings radiated warmth and belonging. Neither of them had ever felt more— more  _ right _ then in that moment. Lips closed but gently tangling with one another, simply enjoying the simulated warmth and sensation radiating off of them. 

Marinette pulled away, and after a brief moment of breathless basking in the afterglow of the innocent intimacy, opened her mouth and whispered; 

“To cement our new relationship~” before promptly jumping off the wall before her newly minted boyfriend could process what just happened. A beat passed. 

“ _ MARINETTE!”  _

_ —*—*—*—*—* _

“Don’t you have a job you should be doing right about now, Replacement?” Jason asked, not looking at the other guy beside him as they both stared through binoculars at the school entrance. 

“That’s what the hours between midnight and five-am are for. Paperwork is a bitch,” Tim replied smoothly. Jason snorted. 

“I thought those hours were for sleep.” 

“What’s sleep?” Tim retorted. 

“Shut up, she’s here,” Jason hissed, pointing out the pigtailed girl that had just arrived. Damian had already gone inside, waiting outside their first class for Marinette to arrive. His new girlfriend was late, to the displeasure of all the Waynes to notice that damning fact—particularly because of the taxi Marinette arrived in. She had been left behind again. 

The stalkers hiding on the rooftop of a nearby building lay witness to the lone figure stepping out from the building’s shadow near the front door to intercept Marinette. 

“Alya Césaire,” Tim provided softly, having done his research on all of Bustier’s class. “Aspiring reporter, used to have promise before all her posts on the blog she created to follow Ladybug and the other Parisian heroes took a literally slanderous turn. She doesn’t fact check and seems to hang on every word that spills from Lila Rossi’s lying mouth.” 

Jason nodded, eyes narrowing as they saw Alya pointedly walking up to Marinette and saying something to her. It wasn’t an ideal situation, especially since the two girls were the only ones still outside. 

“Hey, you got any audio down there?” Jason asked, to which Tim merely pressed a button on his phone to tune them in to what was being said down there. “Fucking ‘course you do. Just as paranoid as B.”

“—n’t have time for this. We’re already late,” Marinette sounded different from any other time the two vigilantes had heard her— curt and clearly not wanting anything to do with this situation. Another voice filtered in, Césaire’s. They were also both speaking French, which luckily neither Wayne had any problem keeping up with. 

“No, Marinette. We all saw that post you made, girl, what the hell?” 

They watch Marinette huff and roll her eyes at the same time that they heard it over the audio feed. “What did I do this time? All I posted last night was a picture of me and my boyfriend saying goodnight to each other after we had dinner.”

“Yeah, your so-called  _ boyfriend _ is the same jerk who humiliated Lila earlier this week! How could you go out with someone who is clearly a bully? Honestly I expected better, Marinette.”

The resulting laugh was clearly disbelieving, without a hint of humor in the hollow sound. Marinette shook her head as soon as she was done laughing, leveling Alya with an incredulous stare. 

“You’re kidding, right?” When Alya didn’t answer, Marinette continued. “Damian didn’t call Lila out because he’s some sort of antagonist in whatever fairytale you’re making up in your head, Alya! He called her out because she was spreading potentially harmful misinformation about him and his family. Just like she’s been spreading harmful lies for the past two years!”

“You are ridiculous, girl,” Alya looked at Marinette with disgust clear in both her face and voice. “Pathetic. You’re still acting jealous over Adrien even though he’s already met his other half. He’s taken now, and no amount of trying to make Lila look bad or dating random people to make Adrien jealous is going to—“

“Damian is my soulmate!” Marinette hissed suddenly, for the first time legitimate anger seeping into her voice. It was nowhere near the anger she had shown after the GothCorp incident, but still potent. Both Jason and Tim were willing to bet that Alya didn’t even notice herself taking a step back. “He is definitely not a random person, and I won’t let you insinuate that I don’t care about him! I gave up my crush on Adrien back when he and Kagami first bonded. Even then, actually,” Marinette let out another sad, hollow chuckle. “I think my crush had already been fading. Adrien knows about Lila’s lies too, and—“

“Yeah, that’s another thing!” Alya interrupted obtusely, stubborn. “You turned Adrien against his best friend in class! He won’t even talk to Nino anymore, and he’s been sulking about it for the past two days. I don’t know what you said to him, but that’s low. Did you blackmail him? Because Adrien would never speak up and make Lila cry in front of the whole class unless—“

“Unless he was finally done with her shit!” Marinette took her turn cutting off her former best friend. At least her out of character language caused Alya to freeze. Even at her angriest, Alya had never heard Marinette use such harsh language before. “Lila’s been horrible to him! Clinging to him even after he got his Mark, dragging him places he clearly didn’t want to go. Digging her nails in his arm whenever he tried to leave her, did you ever notice the marks? Adrien wore short sleeves yesterday specifically so you guys might see that Lila’s nails have made scars on him. They can be easily hidden by makeup, sure, but they’re still there. That isn’t okay, Alya. What Lila did to him, what she’s doing to all of you, it isn’t  _ okay!”  _

“No,” Alya grit her teeth. “What she did was show us what a two-faced bully you are, Marinette. You’ve changed. You’re rougher, you aren’t as patient. You’ve stopped helping us with anything in class like planning parties or helping us clean up or catering. You go back on your promises all the time now, and pretend to forget about things.” 

“No,” Marinette’s hands clenched in and out of fists. “No, Lila would  _ tell you _ that she gave me information when she didn’t. I wasn’t pretending to forget, I was never informed of those things to begin with! And not helping?” Marinette scoffed. “I still do my share of planning. I clean on the days I’m scheduled to clean. I just don’t do your share of chores now, too, because you’re not my  _ friend _ anymore, and I don’t feel like doing unnecessary favors for people who don’t even like me. And you aren’t entitled to any free catering from the bakery. That’s how my family makes money to survive, and if you don’t want to be a loyal friend then you can pay for our pastries like everyone else,” Marinette stopped, taking a deep breath and staring hard at her friend. There was a long, tense silence. On Marinette’s side, there was nothing but resignation in her body language. Alya, on the other hand, was shaking with barely restrained anger. 

Marinette was the one to break first, sighing and letting her shoulders droop in disappointment. “I don’t know why I bother. You’ll listen to anything that liar says, you think she’s some sort of saint. Now we are both very late, and I have left my boyfriend waiting too long. I hope you don’t get too hurt at the end of this Alya, but I can’t spend more energy on you right now,” she looked down at her hand, and a secretive smile spread over her lips. “I deserve better than you. And I won’t let you or Lila convince me otherwise any longer.” 

Marinette started walking away, unknowing of the silent cheers and thumbs up she was getting from Jason over in his perch hidden on a nearby rooftop or the supportive grin from Tim next to him. But she didn’t get far, her last words apparently being all that was needed to send Alya over the edge. 

“Stop being so condescending!” Alya growled, grabbing a fistful of Marinette’s hair and trying to drag her back. “I can’t believe I used to be your friend!” She hissed as Marinette yelped, yanked back a few feet. The shorter girl wrapped her hands around an oblivious Alya’s wrist. She continued to twist and yank Marinette’s hair, full on growling in Marinette’s face now. “Lila isn’t lying! She’s better than you, better than any of us! And she’s nice enough to use her connections to help—“ 

Marinette used Alya’s blind rage to kick her feet out from under her, her hands using their grip on Alya’s wrist to heave the bigger girl over her shoulder and onto the ground. The curly haired girl let go of Marinette’s hair in surprise as she hit the ground, and the Asian girl backed up quickly. One hand raised up to where she felt half of her hair suddenly brushing her shoulder. There was a clump of black hair in Alya’s hand. 

“You broke my rubberband,” Marinette’s voice was surprisingly dull as she took notice of her half-undone pigtails and stared down at her ex-friend in disappointment. 

“How— But you’re so clumsy! That hurt!” 

“I would hope so,” Marinette remarked blandly, making her way to the school doors. “That’s supposed to hurt. And being clumsy doesn’t mean I’m incapable of protecting myself, Maman’s been teaching me self defense. But you’d know that if you listened to anything that anyone other than Lila says.” 

“I’ll report you for this! You  _ attacked me!”  _

“Don’t bother, Alya. There’s a camera right there,” Marinette pointed to the object that was aimed right at where they had been the whole time as Marinette pushed the doors open. “I’m reporting you first, and we aren’t in Paris right now so the staff don’t have any ridiculous reason to trust you over me.” 

As Marinette left Alya stuttering on the pavement, Tim shut off the audio feed and both boys looked at one another. There was nothing there to point towards what Marinette’s secret might be, but there was a lot to reinforce the bullying they already knew about. 

“Well. That’s not great,” Tim remarked, beginning to put their spy stuff away before saying; “Don’t you dare pick up that gun, Jason. We aren’t killing anyone.” 

“I wasn’t going to—“

“No maiming either.” 

“... party pooper.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

“You did the right thing, Marinette,” Damian softly assured the girl he was holding against his chest as they rode in the back of the luxury car Alfred had picked them up in. “I would have preferred if you broke a bone or two of course, but you are unnecessarily merciful.” 

Marinette snorted, just letting her head rest against his shoulder. “Breaking any of her bones would only give her more fuel,” she protested weakly. Damian smirked, running his fingers through her now-down hair. It was odd for him to see her hair outside of pigtails when she wasn’t also in pajamas and in their mindspace, but not necessarily a bad kind of odd. “By the way, what are the odds that your brothers bugged the car to listen to us?” 

“Well, all our private cars have listening devices hidden in them since it makes everything easier for Father if something happens inside one. But I can guarantee they are tapped into the ones in this vehicle already, they wouldn’t miss the opportunity.” 

Marinette huffed out a short laugh, shaking her head in minor disbelief. “All of this shadows and spying and detective work is going to take some getting used to, honestly,” She admitted. 

“Of course,” Damian shrugged with his shoulder that wasn’t currently being occupied by his girlfriend’s head. “All of the Parisian heroes are bright, colorful,” he pretended to shudder, “Daytime heroes.”

He got a playful punch to the shoulder for that. 

“You’re colorful yourself, Mister Traffic Light,” She snarked right back. “If I didn’t already know that the Robin color scheme was decided before you were even born, I’d be tempted to disown you for it. And if whoever—it was Nightwing, wasn’t it? Batman hates color— did choose it doesn’t have a good reason, I might still disown him.” She said the last part pointedly loudly, so that there was no way the hidden bug would miss it. 

Damian snorted, gleeful at the mental image of Dick’s utter dismay when he heard that. “Well, let me put you at ease. They were the colors of his parent’s last costumes for their circus act before they died.” 

Marinette was dead silent for a long moment. “Oh my god, I take it back. I’m adopting Nightwing out from under your father’s nose and baking him scones.” 

“Marinette, wait—” 

“I’m. Baking. For Nightwing.” 

“I already had to deal with Father taking in strays, I am not going to stand by while…” he trailed off, met by Marinette’s surprisingly fierce glare. 

“Try to stop me, I dare you. And don’t call them strays. I might respect you for being the first Robin to wear a uniform that doesn’t make me want to bleach my eyes, but don’t think for a second that that means I’ll let you disrespect my new brother. I’m stealing him from you and you can’t do anything.” 

“Don’t steal Grayson! Take Todd or, actually, take Drake. Please take Drake. But Grayson stays.” 

“Aha! So he  _ did  _ take over as Batman for a while, or else you wouldn’t be so attached to someone you just called a stray!” 

It was Damian’s turn to go silent, staring into Marinette’s eyes as they finally pulled into the mansion’s driveway. 

“I can only imagine the emotional whiplash you just put my brothers through, along with the fact that you just legitimately impressed me, and I really want to kiss you now.” 

One chaste but lingering smooch, and the gagging of the gaggle of children in adult bodies listening in on earpieces later, and the bonded duo finally made their way inside the mansion. 

Bruce was waiting for them. He led the couple to the dinner table as Alfred served the meal out. It didn’t take long for Marinette to realize there were two extra people there. As if anticipating her thought process, Bruce didn’t even look up from his food before beginning to say;

“Oh yes. My fiancé and the girls other than Barbara, who are part of the family even if I haven’t officially adopted them, arrived back from a trip this morning. They didn’t want to overwhelm you, so only Cassandra stayed to meet you today. She is the most… soft spoken, you could say, so we figured it was a safe move,” Bruce finally looked up and aimed a disarming smile at Marinette, who smiled back briefly before her eyes were drawn back to the new woman. “So, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I’d like to introduce you to Cassandra Cain. Cassandra, this is Damian’s Fated, Marinette. Also, my eldest son got back from Paris two nights ago,” he waved his hand to the tall, broadly smiling man sitting to his right. It wasn’t hard for Marinette to connect him to Nightwing since she had already done the hard part of figuring out their identities. Aligning their smiles and cheery aura was like child play in comparison. “Richard Grayson, but he prefers to go by Dick.” 

“Nice to meet the girl who is apparently adopting me!” Dick greeted with a wide, boyish grin. Marinette felt herself flush a bit in embarrassment. 

“Pleased to meet you,” Marinette responded, bowing her head slightly with a soft smile. Cassandra copied the gesture and the smile towards her, but did not verbally reply. Marinette allowed her gaze to linger for a second more before deciding to focus on her food and the sibling squabbles already beginning to break out. 

“You are suspicious of me,” Cassandra said, speaking up for the first time. Her soft voice had no problem cutting through every discussion, and Marinette paused with a forkful of potatoes halfway to her mouth. Cassandra’s lips tilted up into a smirk. “You have good instincts.” 

Marinette quickly set her fork down, waving her hands in denial. “N-not at all! At least, I wouldn’t call it suspicion,” her face twisted a bit as she searched for the right words, all the while cognizant of the many eyes boring into her in anticipation of what she had to say. “It’s… Caution. All of you, or the boys and Barbara at least since this is the first time I’ve met you, are much more tense than the last time I ate with them,” she tucked a strand of her irritatingly loose hair behind one ear. She was really starting to wish Alya hadn’t broken her ponytail holder when she didn’t have a spare to replace it. “I know that Bruce, or maybe Batman would be more accurate, wouldn’t introduce anyone new to someone he didn’t trust unless he thought that new person could help him understand the person he didn’t trust, right? So I know you’re here because Bruce thinks you can help him understand me, and that makes me cautious since I know nothing about  _ you,”  _ Marinette finally ended her ramble, hoping she got her thoughts through clearly enough. A beat passed, and Cassandra’s smirk returned a little wider than before. 

“Good instincts,” she repeated with a nod. “ _ Very _ good.” 

Damian placed a hand on Marinette’s shoulder, shocking her into looking over and right into the proudest smile she had ever seen him wear. He was even showing teeth. 

“That’s a big compliment from Cass. She doesn’t like wasting words, but you impressed her,” he informed the girl, his Bonded and his girlfriend and just overall his companion. Only two short weeks, and they managed to grow close enough for him to feel such visceral pride in her. It was odd. 

So, so very odd. But also right. More right than anything either of them had experienced before. 

Marinette took a deep breath, fortifying herself after being under the proverbial spotlight. Speaking her mind while under so many intense gazes, especially now that she knew both sides of everyone at the table, was one of the hardest things she had ever done outside of her own suit. Once her heartbeat had sunk back down to a manageable pace, she lifted her eyes and smiled widely at the large, out of uniform Bat Family gathered around her. Like a swarm, an army, they were trying to put her at ease but Marinette did not miss the way they were in their Vigilante mindsets even if not in the suits. She was their current object of interest, and that was not a place even the toughest of villains liked to be for long. But still, she smiled. 

Because this was all according to plan. Damian’s hand dropped from her shoulder to hold hers. 

They were two warriors facing down a storm, and damn if they hadn’t already prepared to cut down clouds. When Damian said that Marinette was prepared to prove her trustworthiness, Tim was right to take that as a threat. 

“Thank you. I’ve gotten pretty good at reading people, living in a city where recognizing the early signs of any kind of breakdown can prevent disaster makes it a very important skill to learn. But I’m apparently nowhere near your level, Madame Black Bat.” 

Let the confrontation of the Bats and Ladybug begin, and with only one side still having the element of surprise, it would be one to remember. 

—*—*—*—*—*


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! This ended up WAY longer than expected, so I split it into two chapters. Sorry if this isn’t super exciting, but I needed the buildup. After two or three months, this was the best version I could make.

“And before you ask,” Damian quickly spoke up, a very smug smirk pulling one corner of his lips upward. “I didn’t even give her any hints. But pulling Cassandra back from her vacation early without notifying me was a surprisingly devious move, Father.” 

Bruce put down his fork, frowning at his youngest son. “I was hoping we could save most of this for after dinner,” The Wayne Patriarch complained pointedly. Marinette tilted her head, widening her eyes a little in equally pointed false innocence. 

“Except for the subtle prying for information masked as normal conversation, right?” They weren’t the only ones sitting at the table in their hero mindsets and civilian clothing. She put another forkful of food in her mouth, with her, Damian and Cass being the only ones who bothered to continue eating. “We can have a normal dinner,” she continued after swallowing. “But only if you and the rest of the boys and Mademoiselle Barbara decide to put your curiosity on the back burner for now. I am not running anywhere anytime soon, you can ask your questions later. That is why I agreed to come, after all. I would also like to enjoy Monsieur Alfred’s cooking without being interrogated.” 

“Indeed. You are being exceedingly rude, Master Bruce. The food is getting cold, and I worked rather hard on it,” Alfred agreed from his place slightly behind and to the right of Bruce’s chair, where he stood dutifully. His words had a certain sharpness to them that made Bruce’s shoulders drop, and all of his sons began to eat almost as if scared into it. 

“Of course, Alfred. I’m sorry, Marinette. But you can understand our… concern, can’t you?” The eldest Wayne asked, even as he also began to eat. He didn’t seem to notice himself almost subconsciously following Alfred’s implied advice. 

Marinette nodded, taking a sip of the tea that Alfred had provided her. “Yes. I understand the importance of secret identities, and the importance of being careful about who knows them. But I intend to stay by Damian’s side, and I have no problem proving myself to be worthy of that much at the very least.  _ After _ supper.” 

That ended that discussion, and the remainder of the meal passed with tense, but casual conversation about everyone’s day. Almost everyone, bar Cass who was more interested in observing everything silently, managed a short conversation or two with Marinette. Tim and Bruce managed to talk to her about what they had planned for their internship together, since the following day was a Saturday and they would resume their work together in the morning. Tim, Marinette, and Dick all managed to somewhat awkwardly bond over being fans of Jagged Stone. Barbara tried and failed at starting a conversation with Marinette about computers and other things, but eventually they managed to talk a little about fashion. That ended up being the discussion that was happening as dinner finished up and the family began herding Marinette towards the Batcave. 

Apparently Barbara had a hard time connecting with a normal teenage girl, after being surrounded by the Wayne men, crime fighters, and just generally very abnormal people for the last large chunk of her life since she was sixteen. Marinette still didn’t know who Barbara’s alias was, and as a result was equally awkward with the redhead at first. 

“Actually,” Marinette was saying as Bruce opened up one secret passage and began to lead them down. This one had a ramp for Barbara. “That’s part of how I connected everyone’s alias to their civilian selves. I’m an inspiring fashion designer, which I know at least Tim and Bruce already knew from my contest submission. I’ve gotten pretty good at estimating measurements at a glance. I also, uh, a couple years ago an ex-friend of mine got me obsessed with figuring out the logistics of hero suits for some reason? So I have the recommended thickness and most common layers of padding for Kevlar still memorized. With that, it wasn’t hard to match everyone’s body types outside the suit, accounting for said Kevlar and padding, to the civilian persona whose body best matched. Plus, having met all of them in person helped match the personalities too.” 

Barbara’s eyebrows rose, and she habitually started rolling herself towards the batcomputer as they finally reached the ground. “That’s impressive,” the redhead started. “To be able to— oh, never mind. I lost her.” 

Even after doing her best to mentally prepare herself for this, Marinette still found herself awestruck. Eyes wide enough to pop out of her skull and jaw almost on the ground, the girl slowly spun in place to take everything in. She could hear Damian chuckling behind her, but just ignored him. The sleek, imposing Batmobile. The ragged stalactites dripping menacingly from the cave roof. The runway and parking spots for the various vigilante vehicles. The metal table and chairs that were probably used for debriefing, with the imposing Batcomputer screen in perfect view for video calls. The training area almost made the poor girl  _ drool.  _ She hadn’t been much of an exercise nut (or rather, not one at all) before Ladybug, but now she would almost  _ kill _ for a good place to regularly train. Almost. 

“Woahhh,” she whispered, only letting Damian steer her to the debriefing table after she had gotten a sufficient eyeful. “This place is amazing!” 

“Well, there went her badass aura,” Jason joked. Marinette’s eyes swiftly snapped over to him, and she smiled sweetly. Too sweetly. 

“I don’t have to give up who I am to be a badass. I’m a girly girl, I’m easily impressed by inspiring scenery, I have a bad tendency of being a clutz, and I am only one hundred and fifty-two centimeters and less than fifty kilograms. But that doesn’t mean that I can’t or won’t flip you and every pound of muscle on your body over my shoulder if I need to.” 

Damian snickered, Dick outright guffawed, and Barbara and Cass both smirked. Tim and Bruce were too busy getting in their vigilante mindsets and just generally having sticks up their asses again to emote, and Jason grinned ferally with his hands pressed to the table as if he was preparing to push himself back up to standing. 

“Think you can, short stack?” 

“Actually, that’s where I’d like to begin,” Tim cut in, his eyes focused only on Marinette. Jason growled a bit in disappointment and annoyance at the interruption, dropping to slump in his seat again. “You just said again that you’re a clutz. But you freeran with Robin and Red Hood without an issue earlier this week, Jason even commented that you pulled some stunts he wouldn’t even try and landed them like a pro. But in front of Bruce and I, and everyone else when you had lunch with us last weekend, you were easily surprised and fell over yourself a lot,” Tim’s eyes narrowed. “Why the contradiction?” 

Marinette finally sat herself at the table, frowning right back at Tim. “Honestly? I don’t really know,” she said with a shrug. “I’m a clutz, but I’m also really athletic and nimble. They aren’t mutually exclusive for me. It’s just…” Marinette’s face twisted as she tried to figure out how to explain it. 

“Mindset,” Damian supplied, making Marinette look over at him in confusion. He snorted. “I’ve been able to see the difference since you started attending Gotham Academy. When you are alone or focusing on something, you become suddenly more confident and precise. In front of multiple people, especially your class, or when you are uncomfortable, you lose sense of your surroundings and become susceptible to tripping over your own feet. It has everything to do with your confidence and focus.” 

“Oh,” Marinette muttered, seemingly reflecting and realizing that Damian was right. “That… makes sense actually,” she acquiesced, nodding as if solidifying that answer before returning her gaze to Tim and Bruce. “I try not to blatantly lie, so I’m more likely to leave out details or mislead. I didn’t mean to contradict myself, obviously I didn’t know I was speaking to you guys outside of your uniform, but I wasn’t trying to lie to either of your identities either.” 

“That still doesn’t explain why you said you’ve never done parkour or anything similar before,” Bruce pointed out, and Marinette nodded.

“I don’t like telling people. It has to do with my relationship with Ladybug.” 

“Right, you said she occasionally came to talk to you, right? Like a civilian aide?” Jason chimed in, for once actually looking thoughtful. “I guess it wouldn’t exactly be subtle for her to always meet at your balcony.” 

Marinette just nodded again, letting them come to their own conclusions without verbally acknowledging them as right or wrong. 

“And your fighting?” Dick asked, finally taking part in the interrogation. His face was open, kind, and Marinette dimly realized that he easily slid into the role of Good Cop. Considering he was the first Robin, it was probably second nature for him at that point. Batman didn’t seem like the kind of guy to ever give up his role as Bad Cop. “I know you said your mother trains you, but being able to react the way you did in the alleyway, or especially during the GothCorp thing, that isn’t something you learn just from one on one instruction. Your reactions imply that you’re used to fighting,  _ actually _ fighting, and taking hits.” 

“Taking hits is something most Parisians are used to now, even if they don’t know it. Mind-Control Akumas happen fairly often, and the Parisians under their control inevitably get knocked around a bit when Ladybug and Ch— the other heroes, need to get through them fast. Muscle memory and learned behavior sticks even after mind control.” 

“Marinette,” Bruce leaned over the table, his eyes burning into hers. He caught onto her game. “Stop misleading. Who. Are. You?” 

Marinette steeled her nerves, the feeling of Damian sitting at her side helping her bare the Batman Glare. 

“I am Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Daughter of Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng. I took gymnastics from ages three to seven, my first language is Cantonese, followed by French and then English. I am learning Mandarin, Damian is helping with my fluency, and I know basic survival Japanese because of one of my friends. I have been learning combat under my mom for the past year, and yes I realize the contradiction in what I told you before. I have been learning combat under my mother for only one year, because of reasons that I may or may not decide to share with you later today. If it makes you feel better, I already told Damian,” she gestured to her soulmate, who remained stoically by her side in silent support. “Which it should, because I’m sure all of you know by now that Damian would never knowingly put you all in danger by hiding someone else’s secrets, Bonded or otherwise.” 

“If Damian already knows, then why can’t you tell the rest of us?” Barbara pitched in, her eyes sharp behind the lenses of her glasses as she seemed to try her hardest to look straight through Marinette. The younger girl just shot them all a dangerous, knife-sharp smirk that was eerily similar to the one that Damian wore fairly often. 

“Well, I don’t know you all very well, do I?” She shot right back, leaning over the table on her forearms as she proverbially spun the whole situation around almost effortlessly. Her petite, short form was physically dwarfed by Bruce’s body leaning over the metal piece of furniture across from her, but it was Marinette’s aura that was dominant. “It’s been only a couple short weeks. I’ve spent a fair amount of time with Tim and even Jason, as Red Hood, but as a whole I still don’t know much about you. I’m still cautious about Mademoiselle Black Bat,” she nodded her head towards the ever silent Cassandra, “and Mademoiselle Barbara is also an enigma to me yet. Not to mention that I just met you, Dick, and I don’t fall for the whole instantly-likable, cute-smiles that scream that I should trust you thing. Been there, got over that.” 

“So what did you come here for?” Tim asked, frowning. “Damian said you wanted to win our trust, but that’s a two-way street. We won’t get anywhere if you don’t answer our questions.” 

“Yes, I know. And if Damian and I want a chance to fully develop our relationship and get to know each other even better, then both of our families need to be on good terms. Well,” she traded a slightly impish glance with Damian. “Honestly, we would probably do whatever we wanted anyway, but having your trust would make things easier.” 

“You obviously have something in mind,” Bruce spoke in his Batman-grumble. “Spit it out.” 

Marinette smiled blindingly at him, giving everyone other than Damian the oddest sense of having walked straight into a rabbit trap with Marinette about to pull the rope. 

“Of course! Damian and I were talking after our spar last night— we spar in our dreamscape every night— when we realized something. It was easier for us to get to know and trust each other in those first few days of our Bond after we started sparring. And we had the… epiphany, if you will, that there is no better way to gain trust than from experience. Specifically, experience that allows you to get to know that person. Since we’re short on time, we’ll be speeding up the get-to-know-you thing with activities specialized to allow each of you to observe me and my actions, thought processes, and emotional state, in a way that allows you each, individually, the best level of insight.” 

“Team building, in a way,” Damian spoke up for the first time in a while, showing his support of Marinette. His grin, on the other hand, did not soothe any of his family in the least. “Since trust is a two way street and all, this will serve two simultaneous purposes. The first is to allow you all to analyze and get your own measurement of Marinette’s character. The second is for Marinette to do the exact same thing back, and by the end of it she should be able to decide whether or not she can trust all of  _ you _ dunderheads with  _ her _ secrets.” 

“... Is nobody going to comment on the fact that they spar together every night?” Jason asked, his eyes locked on Marinette. “Because that's got me curious. We know you have skills, Marinette, but now I wanna know if you can actually keep up with Demon Spawn or not,” he admitted. Silently, everyone else was wondering the same. If she could, though, it would just raise more questions. 

And unbeknownst to all of them, Marinette was well aware of that. 

“Don’t worry, Jason,” she assured him. “You’re third on the list, where you’ll be able to spar with me too. You and Damian are somewhat similar that way— the fastest way for both of you to read and get to know a person is through combat. But that’s not the same for everyone.” 

“You came up with an order for this to happen in?” Barbara asked, raising her eyebrows. Marinette shrugged. 

“Damian helped. We wanted to make sure nobody jumped the gun on any suspicions about me. First up is Dick, and then you, actually, Mademoiselle Barbara. Then Jason, followed by Tim, Mademoiselle Cassandra, and lastly Bruce.” 

“Me first?” Dick asked, pointing at himself. “But you just admitted that we’re perfect strangers. You still planned for me?” 

“Of course,” Marinette conformed with a nod. “After all, I met you as Nightwing on that first night that I was in Gotham. That, and some help from Damian, was enough for me to come up with some ideas. I have gymnastics and parkour experience, as I’m sure you’ve seen or at least heard from Tim and the others. I’d like our first trust building exercise to be an amped-up trust fall. That is, if you’re willing to walk me through a simple acrobatic routine.” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Dick was visibly slightly nervous, and nobody said a word as the first thing he did was set up a net in the room he had led Marinette to. It held a myriad of acrobatic equipment, but the centerpiece were the trapezes looming over the air of the center of the room and their imposing ladders. Marinette climbed up with Dick, watching and letting him almost absentmindedly teach her how to check the trapeze ropes to make sure everything was safe to use. They both ignored the crowd of bat-people watching with laser focus from ground level. Once all the safety checks were done and the net triple-checked for security, Dick turned to Marinette. His face was serious, no trace of his usual joking or happy-go-lucky nature to be seen. 

“Are you sure? I mean, we have a net and everything should be completely safe, but regardless. Trapeze isn’t something to underestimate, so I need confirmation that you’ll take this seriously and listen to everything I say.” 

Marinette just gave him a small, understanding smile. “I never said it had to be trapeze, just that it had to be acrobatics. Thank you for trusting me though, I promise to take this seriously and listen to you. But don’t worry, I have pretty good balance and body control. Just tell me what to do and we’ll both be fine.” 

Dick finally smiled, nodding and holding out his hand to her. Regardless of his trauma and how adamant he was about trapeze safety, it was still one of his favorite things to do. None of his brothers showed much interest in learning, so Dick never really had the chance to teach somebody like this. Admittedly, it was something he had always wanted to do. 

But that didn’t distract him from the goal of this whole thing. To learn more about Marinette by putting her through situations where she had to react honestly, and probably without much time to think or scheme. In that respect, Trapeze was perfect. Gymnastics and parkour used similar muscles and skill sets, but Trapeze was both different and dangerous enough to strip Marinette of any chance to be anything other than raw and genuine with her actions and reactions. 

Dick pointed out everything she had to focus on, kneeling next to the much shorter girl so that he could show her how to properly hold the bar and the different positions she should use when sitting and swinging on it. After that came his own demonstrations of a few simple swings where he landed on the opposite platform, demonstrating the technique and form he wanted from her. 

The entire time, Marinette watched him with apt attention and focus. Her bluebell eyes were sharp and focused on every little gesture and tidbit he gave her, and she nodded at all the right moments to show she was listening. 

Then came Marinette’s turn. She took the bar in hand, testing out her grip and getting into position, before leaping off the platform and starting her first swing. As she was carried through the air, she couldn’t stop her face from splitting into a large smile. The wind whipping through her hair, the rush of adrenaline, it was everything she was missing from her Paris patrols and yo-yo travel. She knew from experience the exact moment to let go, swinging herself up through the open air and almost instinctively tucking herself into a front flip before landing solidly on the platform where Dick was waiting for her. 

She couldn’t help but beam at him, a laugh tearing itself out of her mouth. He returned the smile, impressed. 

“That was perfect! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this isn’t your first time flying,” he said as he clapped her shoulder happily. She didn’t fall for the trap, instead giggling again. 

“I’ve never done Trapeze before, but my gymnastics helped a bit I think. That was amazing! Please tell me we can do more!” 

Dick laughed, nodding. “Of course! That was only the basics. Now that I have a good measure of what you can do, we’ll step it up. You’re smaller than me by a good amount, so I’ll be the catcher and you’ll be the flyer. Sound good?” 

This was where Marinette knew she would be tested the most. She wasn’t used to being caught, she was usually the one doing the catching and rescuing. She took a deep breath, nodding and listening as Dick began to explain their next mini routine. She wasn’t used to trusting people like this, but she knew she had to try. It was all in the plan. She had to follow the plan. 

Dick started out on his own bar, swinging back and forth to create a steady momentum. His eyes locked on Marinette, who studied his rhythm and bit her lip as she sat upright on her own bar. Her heart thudded madly in her chest— she didn’t want to make Dick carry her weight. It felt foreign to rely on someone else like this. But she knew she had to, this was the trust exercise that she came up with after all. 

Slowly, she turned and flipped so she was hanging by her knees and began to gain momentum of her own. It took a while, a minute or two of her just swinging by her knees without making any moves, the crowd below starting to get impatient. But Dick’s crystal blue gaze held her steady, patient and waiting for her to be comfortable. For her to trust him. 

Marinette focused on that. On his eyes steadily swinging in and out of view, and she took one last breath before finally swinging herself off her bar and through the air. She kept her body straight, focusing on keeping the perfect posture even as Dick’s hands clamped securely around her wrists and they swung together through the air. One, twice, three time. 

“Ready?” Dick asked, signaling Marinette that he wanted to try out the second part of the routine they had discussed. Marinette locked her lips as they swung, nodding. 

“Ready!” 

Dick grinned in encouragement and, once they reached the apex of the next swing, let her go. She knew what she was supposed to do, but in the heat of the moment could only think about accidentally kicking Dick in the face. She froze, only doing a half-spin in the air before her wrists were one again grabbed by Dick. His face frowned upside-down at her, but not unkindly. 

“Come on, you flipped earlier. Trust me to catch you.” 

“But my feet!” She argued softly as they swung. “What if I—“

“Trust me to be watching you, and trust yourself to flip correctly. You know how, you’ve already done it. I’ll catch you, and you won’t kick me. Try again.” 

Marinette nodded, gulping. “Okay.” 

The next apex of their swing came, and once again Dick let go and let her fly up with their momentum. This time, Marinette forced her mind to clear and flipped- once, twice, and then her body opened and her arms flung out to where they were solidly captured by Dick’s. Nobody got kicked or dropped, and they finished by Dick tossing Marinette to her platform as he flipped onto his own. 

Dick grinned at her, and Marinette found herself standing breathless on her platform with a large disbelieving smile on her face. She did it! Not even just a single flip like they planned, but a double! She didn’t even know she could do that outside of the Ladybug suit! 

Marinette jumped up and down happily, fist-bumping the air. “Woohoo! That was amazing!” 

Dick laughed along happily, and met her back on the ground with a friendly clap on the back. “That was some nice flying, little pixie! Now, if I’m not mistaken, you said Barb was next?” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Barbara and Marinette had a much different challenge— twenty questions. Barbara had a lot of experience with interrogations and criminal behavior, so Marinette knew that the redhead would not hold back in her questioning. But Marinette also had some things she wanted to know. The catch? Yes or no questions only. 

“Have you ever done anything illegal?” Barbara started, but Marinette was not to be deterred. 

“Yes. Have you ever dated Dick?” 

“Nice try, yes. Have you ever killed anybody?” 

Marinette jerked, horrified. “No! Are you always this aggressively protective?” 

“Yes.” 

That… was lightning fast, but traumatizing for Marinette and enlightening for Barbara and the others. The poor Asian girl had to lean on Damian, not necessarily in bad shape but still a bit winded. 

“I warned you,” Damian reminded her as he rubbed circles on her back. Marinette made a face. 

“Yeah, but nothing could have prepared me for her.” 

“Welcome to the family, Angel,” Damian said gravely, but Marinette could see the twinkle in his eyes that betrayed the tease. “Usually it’s me everyone is worried about, but all of us can be rather… intense.” 

That was when a shadow fell over them, and Marinette looked up into the grinning face of Jason Todd. She whimpered a little, hitting her forehead lightly on Damian’s shoulder. Did he have to have such perfect timing? Jason’s entire body pretty much exuded intimidation, and that was without taking into consideration the fact that he was over a foot taller than Marinette and solid muscle. 

“I believe we have a spar now. Or, are you too tired after Barb’s verbal beatdown?” 

Damian snorted, knowing full well how such a taunt would affect his Bonded. 

Sure enough, Marinette pretty much lunged onto her feet and glared challengingly up at the taller man. 

“Oh, you are on.” 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette is a Drama Queen. We should never forget this fact of life.

Damian slung an arm around Marinette’s shoulder, leaning his head down so none of his family would be able to read his lips as he whispered into her ear. 

“Todd, as much as I hate to admit it, is not somebody I have been able to beat often in a spar. I know you don’t want to feel like you’re cheating so I won’t give you any tips except this one; Don’t let him stay too close.” 

Marinette nodded, her eyes never once leaving Jason’s form. She had never changed out of the exercise shorts and tank top that she had donned right before going on Trapeze with Dick, so she was ready to go. She just accepted a hair tie that Cassandra seemed to materialize out of thin air for her, tying her hair into a messy bun before approaching the sparring mat where Jason waited. 

In sync, they both kicked off their shoes (or boots, in Jason’s case) and walked barefoot onto the mat across from one another. With the ease of practice, they both shifted into their preferred battle stances. Jason’s was casual; just a shoulder-wide separation of his feet, a slight bend to his knees, and his arms slightly bent at the elbow for maximum unpredictability. He could move however he wanted as fast as possible this way, whether to block or attack or dodge. 

Conversely, Marinette slid into something a little more rigid even as her eyes continued to analyze her opponent. Her left foot in front of her right, about shoulder-width apart. Knees bent, with her weight balanced on the pads of her feet and her heels slightly raised above the floor. Her arms were both bent at sharp angles, one hand in a flat, karate-like position in front and slightly below her face with her other hand similarly rigidly straight by her hip. It almost looked like an exaggerated running position. 

Bruce watched both of them carefully, waiting until they both were completely settled into their stances and ready to go before raising one hand up. 

“Please try to avoid any broken bones or blood, Jason. Keep face strikes to a minimum, both of you. Three, two—“

Knees bent a little more. 

“Start!”

Jason immediately lunged forward, trying to close the gap between the two of them. Marinette, having suspected he would do that from Damian’s warning, jumped straight up and used one flat palm to swat away Jason’s first punch as her other palm allowed her to bound off of Jason’s head to flip and land gracefully on the other side of the mat where he had started out at. 

After that, the spar sped up. 

It was clear that Marinette’s fighting style was similar to Dick’s, with lots of gymnastic moves and an aerial flavor to it. However, it was also surprisingly reliant on strength, with hints of Aikido to allow her to take advantage of her lack of size and raw power in comparison to her opponent. And also, there was an almost… ancient feeling to some of her movements, a blend of different old styles that none of them could pin down solidly. 

Except for three people in particular. 

Damian, Jason, and Bruce all noticed, every now and then. Especially when Marinette twisted her feet a certain way, or when she landed an elbow strike to Jason’s torso while her back was facing him, not even turning to look at the tall man before reaching up and behind her, locked her hands around the back of his neck, dug the heel of one foot into the soft flesh above one of his kneecaps, and brought his whole body up and over her own to slam harshly into the ground. 

The League of Assassins had a similar, smaller section of fighting that they taught, specifically for situations when someone had to fight up close and was physically outmatched. It was as old as Ra’s himself, dating back hundreds of years. 

Marinette was using a less lethal version of it. A version that was not only clearly rooted in disabling rather than permanent harm, but it was more balanced than the League version. Marinette’s center of gravity always remained perfectly centered and controlled. Not one part of her body ever moved to unbalance the rest; if part of her moved forward, another moved back or shifted downwards to keep her balance perfectly centered. 

Jason didn’t stay down, easily using Marinette’s temporary break from flying through the air to grab her ankle and purposely disrupt her carefully maintained equilibrium. He suffered through one of her surprisingly powerful punches right to his chest, working through the pain as they devolved into a wrestle on the ground. He trapped her ankles by locking his own around them, and one of his hands was more than enough to restrain both of her much smaller ones. 

But he had forgotten about her flexibility. Like a newly caught fish, Marinette wriggled and unbalanced Jason, sending them both rolling until she managed to get one foot free and kick him away. 

They both scrambled to get back up, already out of breath and extremely wary of the weapons that each of their bodies were. Marinette stumbled for a second before regaining her footing. One of Jason’s downright _lethal_ kicks had connected with her hip, and she already knew it would be sore enough to make walking on the leg on that side a pain in the ass for at least the next day or two.

So far, besides the brief wrestle, Marinette had been careful to only stay on the ground for seconds at a time. She had been careful about alternating her more solid martial arts with her acrobatics, keeping herself close to Jason only long enough to land her own hits and retreat. 

But now that wasn’t possible. Or at least, it would be extremely risky. With her hip burning in agony so badly, jumping around would be torture and any landing could send her sprawling on the ground from her abused hip refusing to hold that much force. 

Which meant she had no choice but to brave a full on, close-up fight. 

Exactly what Damian had warned her against.

Oh well. She could find a way to win, right? What was she if not an improviser, anyway? 

This whole thought process took the span of about three seconds, during which Jason was obviously assessing his own minor injuries from where she had hit him and was readjusting his own plan. Then, in sync, they both took a deep breath and lunged towards one another again. 

Marinette did her best to stay light on her toes, using her smaller size to dart around Jason as she leveled jabs at his sides, kicks to his legs, and the occasional knee to his torso. But Jason only got hit a third of the time, easily batting away or dodging most of her strikes as he leveled his own. He wasn’t taking it easy on her, but something still made Marinette a bit unsettled. 

It was the gleam in Jason’s eye. Like a predator who knew he had his prey cornered. Calculating, but smug. 

That fueled Marinette, and both of them sped up. It was like some primal dance, the way they traded blows evenly. Marinette was pretty sure she’d have to bandage her hands after this with how badly they stung from constantly blocking or pushing away Jason’s harsh punches and harsher knees. For a long while, it was silent other than the sound of flesh hitting flesh. It looked like they were evenly matched as they darted around one another, hitting and blocking, dodging and getting hit. 

It was when Jason’s shin slammed into her waist and sent her skidding back a few feet that she realized what was happening. 

She hadn’t been out on patrol or freerunning besides that one “date” a few days earlier. Even after only two weeks of being far less active than usual, her stamina had taken a huge hit. Like muscle, if it was left unexercised for even a short while it could drain away faster than someone might notice. In the mindspace, Marinette never had to worry. It was a non-physical world where stamina was irrelevant. 

Unfortunately, that meant that she couldn’t build her stamina while she was in the mindspace either. And hers was running short fast. 

Marinette grit her teeth even as she managed to skip under Jason’s guard and flip him over her back again. He just rolled with the momentum, grunting as his new bruises were bothered but otherwise right as rain as he got back up and went straight back in for her. 

Now paying more attention to the little details, Marinette could hear just how much heavier she was breathing than Jason. He had been baiting her, making her use up her stamina since he knew she had largely been resting in a hotel for two weeks and not exercising. Rolling with her punches and waiting her out. 

Damn. 

This wasn’t anything like Damian. Damian was all fire and chaos and destruction, going straight in for the kill and never relaxing his effort. All it took was matching him hit for hit, keeping up until an opening eventually showed itself. 

But Jason clearly had a different approach. His strikes were strategic, with almost the same level of chaos as Damian’s but more restraint. 

Jason seemed to notice the moment that Marinette realized what was going on and tried to create space between them, but he wasn’t allowing it. Now that she was much lower on steam than before, he moved in. And damn was he fast for such a big guy. Marinette managed to keep up with him for a little while, but this time it was him who was darting around her with surprising agility. A knee to her back connected. Three blocked punches, then a finger jab slammed into the soft spot in Marinette’s shoulder right in the joint and forced her to let out a squeal of pain. Her eyes flashed, and she managed to get right back into Jason’s space for a second, fueled by desperation and spite. Her pain egged her on, and she managed to land a kick right to Jason’s diaphragm that sent him sprawling for a second. But before Marinette could make it over to him and send them both back into a wrestle, he was back up and on the offensive. 

It was Marinette, now, who was taking more hits than she blocked. Her body felt like one giant bruise already. She hit harder, she noticed that Jason had lost a lot out outward force in his hits over the span of the spar. Instead of being hit by a truck, his strikes now just felt like being smacked by a thick hardcover book. Still hurt like hell, but much more manageable. The thing is, he hit her almost three times more often than she hit him, now. 

Jason landed an open-palm strike right to Marinette’s chest, her increasingly sluggish reaction time just barely keeping her from blocking. It sent her breathless and reeling back, right in time for Jason to swoop on her momentary (and rare, throughout the spar) loss of balance to wrap his hands around her in a solid pin. She wriggled for a moment, but didn’t have the strength left to break out. 

She sighed, sinking back into Jason’s bruised chest with a pout. He had won. 

As soon as the cheering and commentary started up, they both collapsed on the ground and sprawled out on their backs gasping for breath. Jason groaned in despair. 

“Pixie,” he managed in between heavy breaths. “Has anyone ever told you that you punch like Wonder Woman? Because I think I have a fractured rib now.” 

“Wait, really?” She gasped back, lifting her head to look at him tiredly. “I didn’t think I hit you that hard. But you hardly have room… to complain, Mister Freight Truck. My poor hiiiiiiip,” she let her head thump back onto the mat under her as she, too, groaned in despair and discomfort. They both looked beat to all hell, a lot of their visible skin already starting to change into the color of bruising. 

Damian walked over, crouching down next to Marinette and poking her cheek, to which she just glared at him. He looked proud and amused, but there was a bit of concern hidden a little deeper in his emerald irises. 

“I told you to keep your distance,” he teased. She stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Let’s see how easily you can keep _your_ distance when your hip hurts too much to jump and you don’t have weapons, Mister High and Mighty,” she snarked right back. 

Eventually the two of them managed to hobble back up to standing and move to sit at the debriefing table again while Alfred brought some refreshments so that Marinette could do her best to recover from both her physical and pride-related bruising.

Then again, she knew losing had been a possibility the whole time. After all, the Batfam was made up of some of the best martial artists in the world. Batman had been trained extremely well, and had passed that on to his kids. 

Speaking of. Marinette knew that Damian had already seen her use the Guardian martial arts that she absorbed into her brain a year back from both Guardian training and naturally obtaining the body memory of her predecessors, and it was a calculated risk using that in her spar with Jason. Without raising her head, Marinette looked around as best as she could. Everyone generally had a calculating look on their face, except for Jason who looked oddly… sated in his curiosity. 

But Bruce was the worst. When her gaze traveled onto him, she realized that he was staring right at her with crossed arms and a heavily thoughtful look on his face. Their eyes locked for a tense moment, and Marinette could tell that Bruce was doing his best to see through her, to unravel her secrets without a spoken word. But she wasn’t done yet. She knew he didn’t have all the pieces yet. 

After all, purposely blocking only one of Jason’s kicks with a move she knew was strictly an Amazonian-taught maneuver was done to both give the World’s Greatest Detective a hint while instilling proper doubt. After all, it could have been a fluke or coincidence if she only did it once. Right? 

“Alright,” Marinette clapped her hands together without getting up from her position sprawled on the mat. “Tim is next, and I am suddenly extremely grateful that the only physical activities I planned were for Dick and Jason. Can somebody carry me up to wherever you guys keep all your game consoles?” 

—*—*—*—*—*

Damian had no problem telling Marinette, in their mindspace the night that they planned all this, that Tim was an extremely skilled gamer. He was a genius with just about any piece of tech, as much as it made Damian scowl to admit. Tim regularly had game tournaments with the two resident gamers of the Teen Titans, Cyborg and Beast Boy, and only Dick was stubborn enough to still try to beat Tim at any electronic… well, anything, anymore. But merely playing a single combat game would not help the Red Robin, sullen and serious when it came to secrets (and with a stick in his ass that Marinette attributed to him wanting to stay on Bruce’s good side for this dilemma), would not give the slightly older boy the insight he needed. 

So after Marinette convinced Damian to give her a piggyback ride up to the game room, which he primarily accepted in order to relish the shocked silence and boggling eyes that followed him willingly doing so, she sat down on the game room couch and told Tim to pick as many games as we wanted for the two of them to play together. 

Tim chose three: a team fantasy strategy game, the latest Mario Party for whatever reason, and Ultimate Mecha Strike Five. 

Marinette figured he was going to go from most to least combative, since they started with the Fantasy game and put themselves on the same team. 

And thus began the three-hour session of nothing but Games. Bruce had left during the second hour briefly in order to get permission from Bustier for Marinette to spend the night, because it did not at all look like she was going to be done with the activities soon. He returned with a sour expression ten minutes after he left. Bustier had barely even heard his name before practically throwing Marinette at him like a sacrifice. She apparently didn’t care about the girl’s safety as much as she did about Bruce and his family’s reputation. 

Mario party, oddly enough, took longer than the forty-five minutes they spent on the strategy game. And it was more fierce, with both gamers firmly in their own competitive mindsets and geared to take one another D O W N. The games themselves went by relatively quickly with only two players, but after a three-to-three tie they reluctantly settled their Mario differences with Rock Paper Scissors. 

Tim won. 

Marinette pouted, and then realized the last game on the list. 

Ultimate Mecha Strike Five loaded on the screen, and Marinette couldn’t help a wide smile at the sight. Looking at the character options, Marinette paused. Tim had beaten her to her usual mecha choice, LB-01. Marinette’s mouth twisted a bit, sliding her eyes to see Tim discreetly looking at her with a small smirk. With them facing the Tv, nobody else would have been able to see their subtle exchange. Marinette narrowed her eyes, turning back to the screen and choosing NAD-01. They both started at Level one, of course. As soon as the cat and Ladybug-like avatars loaded on the screen, they began. 

Lose. Lose. Win, win. 

Marinette bit her lip, focusing on their tenth match. Tim was by far the best person she had ever played at this game, they were evenly matched. She cursed the fact that he never played competitively so she couldn’t study his style beforehand. For every match one of them won, the other person won the next. It was a perpetual tie, until—

LB-02 IS DOWN. NAD-02 WINS! LEVEL UP, NAD-03! 

Marinette threw her controller up, yelling in triumph. “WOOO! I’m still the champion! Take that, chain restaurant! Hahahahaha!”

Tim stuck out his tongue like a mature CEO, but smiled secretively and stood up. Offering her his hand and helping her up, he stretched his arms and turned to his family. 

“Welp, I got everything I needed. Cass, you’re up.” 

Marinette smiled, bending side to side a little to work out the soreness in her hip as she looked over at the other Asian woman. Cassandra gave a small grin, standing and moving so she was only a few feet in front of Marinette. Then, Cassandra spoke in perfectly fluent Cantonese; 

_“You are friends with the daughter of Tomoe Tsurugi, are you not?”_

Marinette blinked, and then nodded. _“That is right, she is one of my best friends. Did you want to pick the activity? I did not have time to plan for you.”_

Cassandra’s grin widened. _“No. I trust my Cousin to have good judgement. If she trusts you after so long, then I can do the same after observing you all day. Your body and face are bad liars.”_

Marinette flushed, rubbing the back of her neck. After thinking on it for a moment, she agreed that there was no challenge she could offer Cassandra that would be worthwhile. After all, she had observed the civilian Black Bat herself during this whole event; everyone in the room trusted her implicitly. Adding on that she was related, though likely distantly since she knew Tomoe had no siblings, to Kagami only solidified Marinette’s assessment. 

Cassandra Wayne was somebody she could trust. 

With that settled, even though they knew that about half the room could also speak Cantonese and had doubtlessly understood the entire exchange, Marinette turned to Bruce. Last but not least. 

Blue eyes bore into one another. Marinette was pretty sure he was close, but she had instructed Plagg and Tikki both to use their energies to strengthen the magical protections around Bruce specifically so he wouldn't be able to make the final leaps of logic necessary to complete the puzzle he desperately wanted to solve. Mostly because giving Plagg something to do, especially if he got to work with Tikki, lowered the chances of the little chaos god ruining her plan completely. 

And of course, Marinette’s phone decided just then to buzz. Thankfully, the timing was actually good for a change. 

“Alright, I’ve been dramatic long enough. I got to go for a sec, but I’ll explain everything better when I get back. Tikki, Spots On! Kaalki, Merge!” 

The veil lifted from Bruce’s mind right as the bright pink and brown lights from Marinette’s rapid transformations faded away, but she yelled “voyage” and disappeared through a portal before he finished figuring out what just happened. 

Then, all at once, everything finally clicked together in his brain like it was supposed to. Damian watched smugly as one of this father’s eyes twitched. 

“Damian.” 

“Yes, father?” 

“Did she use magic to keep me from figuring her identity out?” 

“Of course. She wanted a dramatic reveal. I admit, your reaction is very amusing.” 

Bruce took one, heavy breath in and pinched the bridge of his nose as he let it out. “You can’t be normal, can you? Any of you. Just one normal soulmate— that’s all I wanted for you kids,” he sighed again. “Then, After I realized that normal wouldn’t happen, I just hoped none of you would be Bonded to a criminal. But not only is she a hero, which is par for the course at least, but she’s a leader of a hero team.” 

“Yes.” 

“With magic that can potentially destroy the world.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Who has been living in an extremely emotionally toxic environment on her own in every way that matters for over three years.” 

“Don’t keep stating the obvious, Father, it isn’t a good look for you.” 

Bruce turned and went to the door. “I’ll be waiting in the Batcave. All of you go there immediately when she gets back.” 

And he left. If he swallowed a few pain pills that Alfred handed him dry, nobody had to know. 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get more done here, but Info Dump ended up taking up more word space than I expected. This felt like the most natural ending to the most frustrating chapter to write thus far. I hope it is okay.

“Here guys, since B is probably hogging the Batcomputer and wants to brood by himself, I pulled up the feed for the Akuma battle for us,” Tim spoke up, pressing a few buttons on his phone so that the TV screen switched from displaying their video games and instead showed the Paris streets. 

Dick came up, leaning on the back of the couch on his forearms. “That’s from the surveillance I put up when I was there, right?” He asked, waiting patiently as Tim flipped through various points of view until he found one that got them a good look at the fight. Tim nodded. 

“Yeah, but also any currently-filming phones and security cameras in the area. Oof, seeing this is real time is just another level of crazy.” 

Right before their eyes, a man dressed in wine red and white with a garish bottle-shaped mask touched a civilian. The mere contact turned the poor person into… a wine bottle. 

An actual, honest-to-Kwamii wine bottle. 

And then a clone of the guy stepped out from a nearby alleyway, wearing inverses colors and spouting rivers of what looked like wine from his hands, flooding the streets and sending cars flying and people—

Everyone grimaced at the scene. People were drowning. Kids, pets, anyone caught in the clone’s torrent of wine. Jason’s knuckles were white as he gripped his knee with one hand and the arm of the couch with another. Damian stood up, eyes laser focused on the screen. He didn’t see his soulmate yet, but he could see a few of her teammates. Queen Bee was flying around, but not engaging. After a second it became clear as to why— cars and trees launched themselves at her even as she flew over a hundred feet in the air. 

She was distracting another one. 

“How many hostiles are there?” Jason nearly growled, tapping a foot to try and release some of his violent energy. Barbara jerked, her wheelchair rolling back a few inches before Cassandra caught her. The redhead huffed a short laugh, holding up her phone. 

“We might get an answer. Marinette hacked me with magic,” she shook her head with a small smile before sinking into Oracle mode. “Putting her on speaker now, code names only here on out.” 

“Hey Oracle! Figured you guys were watching,” Mar— Ladybug’s voice filtered through the phone. She didn’t sound out of breath, so she probably hadn’t joined in the actual fighting yet. “Since you have a different view, could you guys watch our blind spots? This one’s a bit more difficult than usual. Strong emotions.” 

There was a pause and the sound of harsh wind, and just then Ladybug swung down from a building into view of the camera they were currently looking down from. She didn’t know that, of course, and just swung her yo-yo to create a shield that deflected the wine-controller’s next flood. 

Dick grunted. “I’d say so. None of the Akumas while I was there were able to do this much damage,” he agreed, struggling to keep his eyes away from the uncensored image of the bodies on screen. They heard Ladybug hum in agreement, but she couldn’t verbally reply as she was soon dragged into a fight between the one that turned people into wine bottles and the one that controlled wine. Why were Akumas so heavily themed? 

Ryuuko dropped in, taking over the fight to allow Ladybug to zoom away on her yo-yo. She spoke as she swung. “Name’s Champion Pain. As far as we found, he’s a Sommelier. Lost his job— don’t know why yet. Shit!” The debrief was cut short as Ladybug apparently dodged something. Tim rapidly switched cameras until he found what it was— Ladybug had almost been hit by a city bus. There was yet another copy of Champion Pain, this time in black and green, that seemed to have fairly high-scale super strength. He was tossing anything he could grab at any heroes he saw, including entire walls from buildings. Ladybug ducked out of sight on a rooftop, slightly huffing from exertion but nothing major. 

“The Original is the one from earlier, who turns people into bottles. He can also touch any drink and make a copy of himself with a new power. First one is wine-guy, who’s flooding everything. Second is the guy who keeps throwing things— he was made from an energy drink. There’s three more so far. He touched a cup of coffee and— oh come on!” She barely jumped out of the way to dodge a brown-clad copy of Champion Pain, who zipped past her in a blur. She grumbled. “Minor speedster. I’m dealing with a knockoff JL right now, and not having fun.” 

“We can see that,” Barbara said grimly, Tim flicking through more points of view. Queen Bee managed to temporarily trap one of the clones, who was beige-colored and using steam to put people to sleep. Probably made from tea, then. Viperion was knocking out the clone made from a can of soda, whose power was minor air manipulation. He had knocked down several buildings before Viperion had got to him. The estimated death count was already in the triple digits. 

“Alright, can’t talk. Only speak to me if it’s important, gotta focus,” Ladybug’s voice has suddenly taken on a tone of command. Dick had already heard that tone a few times, but nobody else had had the chance. It made the original Robin grin. It was a tone of voice he recognized, since both Bruce and himself used it too. Ladybug was using the tone of a Leader. She expected to be listened to, and anyone who decided not to better have a damn good reason or they would have to answer to  _ her _ . 

“Ryuuko!” Ladybug’s voice rang out over the phone call. The dragon-themed hero tilted her head to show that she was listening even as she fought with the energy-drink clone. “Louvre! Trap number Fifteen!” 

Ryuuko nodded, a sharp smirk curling over her lips. “Come on, muscle brain,” Ryuuko leered, beckoning at the strong clone. “Follow me!” 

Ladybug watched from the rooftops, jeering down a few taunting lines here and there to get the Original Champion Pain and the wine-clone to follow her. She knew that they wouldn’t win if they stayed outnumbered like this, not with the powers all the clones had. But the Original hadn’t made any more, and the soda-clone was still knocked out, so things were looking up. 

The Batclan watched as Ladybug flawlessly led her team into herding all of the Akumas to the Louvre, where there was a wide enough open space for them to work with. It wasn’t easy or perfect, Ladybug had taken a few hits and they had had to double back when one of the Akumas strayed off path, but the plan worked as a whole pretty well. Now Ladybug stood on the ground, yo-yo whirling as she faced down all four of the Champion Pains left standing. With Chat out of picture, she was the next best distraction. 

A single, razor sharp smile spread over Ladybug’s mouth. The smile of a predator having cornered their prey. 

“Lucky charm!” Ladybug threw her yo-yo up, serving three functions. One: all of the Akumas surged forward in an attempt to take advantage of her weakness during the summon. Two: to get the last key to victory. And three: 

To signal her team. 

Queen Bee zipped down from the surrounding buildings where she had been hidden, stinging all of the Akumas from behind. Only the speedster coffee-copy evaded her, only to be swept up by a water-transformed Ryuuko a second later. Just then, a second yo-yo popped into Ladybug’s hands. Her feral grin widened. 

With both yo-yos, Ladybug grabbed the spoon that was hung around the Original Akuma’s neck with one and used the other to snatch the coffee-copy out of the air before he could gain traction and stop her. In one swift movement, Ladybug snapped the spoon in half in one hand. 

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette detransformed the second she made it back through the portal, groaning and flopping down onto the couch— even though she sprawled across both Tim and Jason’s lap in doing so. All of her wounds were healed, but the battle had still taken the better part of an hour and she hadn’t been able to dodge everything. Tim patted her head in understanding. She looked absolutely  _ exhausted. _

“Are you alright?” Damian asked, instantly by her side but knowing better than to touch her just yet. There was no way the adrenaline had worn off yet, and he would rather not get flipped onto his back right then. She waved him off lazily. 

“‘M fine. But the Cure takes more out of me the more people I have to bring back to life. Add in the fact that I used two miraculous, and made two portals, and I’m ready to sleep for a week.” 

“So the more miraculous you wear, the more energy it takes?” Cassandra spoke up, moving forward as she gazed over Marinette with slight worry in her eyes. Marinette grunted. 

“Oh yeah. I’m more resistant to the effects, since I have experience using more than one at once and I’ve been using one of the two strongest Miraculous for almost four years, but it’s still a drain,” she admitted. “Normally, using only the Ladybug, I would have to revive roughly…” she seesawed one hand in the air, scrunching her nose as she estimated the numbers. “Five million people, give or take, before I got this tired. That’s only because I’m a True Ladybug, so it doesn’t take as much energy for me to use it’s powers as it would for anybody else,” she quickly added after hearing all the gasps that went around the room at the large number. “And it comes with the restrictions I already told Night— sorry, Dick and Damian. Only works on the fallout from Akuma powers or if I’m already transformed when the damage—or death— happens, yadda yadda. With two miraculous, that number goes down to half a million for me to be this tired.” 

“But,” Jason furrowed his eyebrows. “Barb set up an approximate death count on the screen. Even on the bad end, only six hundred people died, max. Why’re you still so tired, then?” 

“I didn’t include actually  _ using _ both of the miraculous’ special abilities, let alone using one of them twice. Plus, there’s more. But I think Bruce’ll want to hear the rest,” she turned to head to Damian and lifted her arms up. “Carry me again Damiiiiiiiii,” she whined, pouting dramatically. The boy in question rolled his eyes, but picked her up in a princess carry anyway. He could feel her exhaustion, it was like a heavy blanket weighing over his shoulders and head. Another thing they could apparently sense about one another. 

“Only because I saw you get hit by a tree. Healed or not, I bet you’re still feeling that,” Damian half-lied to explain away why he had given in so easily. Even still, the tips of his ears went pink from all the stares he was getting. “Tt. Father said to go back to the cave as soon as she came back, didn’t he? Stop gawking,” he snapped, storming out of the room with Marinette in his arms. 

“Oh, he’s totally whipped,” Jason snickered, standing up and stretching his still-sore arms. “C’mon, I don’t wanna miss a word Pixie-Pop says.” 

Cassandra was already through the door following the new couple, and Barbara and Dick just nodded. The original Robin wrinkled his nose a little.

“I also rather not get yelled at by B for taking too long. Come on, Tim,” Dick gently scuffed the side of Tim’s head. The young CEO grumbled good naturedly, finally clocking out of whatever screen was open on his phone and standing up as all of them went back down to the Batcave. 

Bruce was sitting at the Batcomputer when they got down there, but with his chair turned around to face away from it. On the giant screen were snapshots from the battle, all at different angles. Marinette was unashamedly draped across Damian’s lap, her legs taking up their own chair as they sat at the metal debriefing table. It sounded like Marinette was just getting done with explaining the energy drain to Bruce, and her eyes shot up to them as the other members of the batclan all walked in and sat down. 

“Now that everyone’s caught up,” she continued, grunting as she pushed herself up so she was sitting on Damian’s lap instead of laying. “The main reason that I’m so tired is connected to Chat Noir.” 

“But he’s out of commission,” Tim interrupted, eyebrows furrowed. Then, his face relaxed in almost instant understanding. “Oh. That’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?” 

Marinette smiled tiredly, nodding. “The Ladybug and Black Cat Miraculous are natural opposites. Yin and Yang, if you will, to a very literal degree. The Ladybug is Creation, good luck, and order. The Black Cat is destruction, bad luck, and chaos. One can never be active without the other, or the balance of the whole universe risks being upset. A ladybug that is active without their Cat could coax entire planets into chaotic, unchecked growth. Suddenly there are too many living things and not enough resources, lifespans are lengthened to an unnatural and unsustainable degree. Living beings, by nature, will fall to their own self-imposed chaos and devolve into crime and murder in an unconscious effort to balance the lack of natural death,” Marinette explained clinically. “Though that entire process could take decades, even small spurts of it can be catastrophic. The opposite is true for a cat that is active without their Ladybug— entire planets can suddenly just disappear on sheer dumb luck. Moons explode. Birth and fertility rates drop drastically. It’s not pretty. Again, a lot of the larger side effects would take decades to appear, but nonetheless even a short span of unchecked Destruction can be devastating.” 

“So you’re keeping it in check… how?” Dick asked slowly, afraid of the answer. Marinette grinned sheepishly, pulling the chain around her neck to reveal the silver ring that was strung on it. “Oh geez. Is that what I think it is?” 

Marinette nodded. “The Black Cat Ring. I’m a True Ladybug, so my natural affinity for Creation is enough to balance out the ring’s destructive energies, at least for now. But it might be easier if they explained it themselves.” 

“They?” Barbara asked, right as two blurs of color zoomed out from Marinette’s purse. The redhead blinked. “What the hell kind of kid’s show did we just enter?” 

There, floating in front of all of the gloomiest vigilantes the world currently knows, were two pixie-like floating… animal-chibi things. Otherwise known as Tikki and Plagg. The red and black Kwami giggled, her catlike counterpart just scoffing in amusement. As usual though, Plagg floated off nearby to inspect the first shiny thing that caught his attention and left Tikki to do the introductions. 

“Hi! My name is Tikki, and the nosy stink ball over there is Plagg. We’re Kwami, the gods that power the Miraculous.” 

“Woah woah woah, a tiny thing like you is a god?” Jason asked, frowning as he looked back and forth between them. “No offense, but I think most of us are pretty wary of anyone claiming godhood, little fairy.”

Zatara and his whole… predicament, came to mind. 

“I assure you, they’re the real deal,” Marinette interrupted. “Even if it doesn’t seem like it.” 

“So, you’re the goddess of Creation?” Cassandra asked, stepping forward and tilting her head at the small god. “I always expected you to be more… green.” 

Tikki laughed, waving one paw-like hand. “That’s just because of you humans and your color associations. Plagg and I are the oldest Kwami. We’ve been around since the beginning of the Universe, before there were any other living beings.” 

“We’re the Original Soulmates too,” Plagg piped up, suddenly popping out of Marinette’s hair somehow. At everyone’s stare at his out of topic statement, he cackled. “Soulmates came from somewhere, you know! As soon as I was born to balance out Tikki, the Universe decided that there had to be a way for every living being after us to be able to feel and be connected to Balance itself. Another Kwami wouldn’t quite cut it, since one god couldn’t keep everything in the universe believing in it. Instead, Soulmates were created.”

Tikki sighed romantically, cupping her face between her two hands. “Our first child together~ it was rather beautiful.” 

“As… informative as that is,” Bruce interrupted, rubbing his forehead. Maybe two pain pills hadn’t been enough. “It still doesn’t explain how Marinette can deal with the drain of both of your powers, especially if you’re as ancient as you say. I’m not sure what damage we could do to you, but if Marinette’s life is in danger I can assure you we would test that,” he threatened darkly. Plagg cackled again, zipping over to fly circles around Bruce’s head. 

“Oh, I like you! Too stuck up and broody for me, but not bad protective instincts. And a fair bit of destruction and chaos in ya too,” he observed playfully. “Too bad you lean more towards order, ya’d be a bummer to work with. You see, a True Ladybug like Maribear only comes around once every thousand or so years, if we’re lucky. And any of Tikki’s bugs is like a kitten to me, too. True Ladybugs and True Cats are like our children, Brucie. They have a very large amount of our own magic in them, which just gets more refined as they use our Miraculous. We would never put Mari’s health at risk, even for the sake of us remaining active.” 

Tikki nodded emphatically. “Lesser beings that call themselves gods might use a parasitic connection to try and use as much of their power in the physical world as they can,” she told them, frowning deeply. “But us Kwami deeply frown on that method. We represent abstract concepts, so we don’t need our holders to have any specific physical traits or magical capabilities to wield us, our Miraculous just acts as a funnel. It controls the amount of our power that a mortal is able to use, so that they never get overburdened unless there is an imbalance or break within the miraculous themselves. Wearing Plagg’s ring might drain Marinette a lot faster when she is transformed, but it actually boosts her energy outside of battle. After all, every True Ladybug has compatibility with Plagg— the two of us have to be compatible to be true opposites. Too much creation is destruction, and too much destruction incites living beings to create in order to survive. It’s a cycle.”

“But that’s not to say it isn’t dangerous,” Marinette piped up. “I’m only able to do this because of the fact that I  _ am  _ a True Ladybug. The strain of wielding both Miraculous would kill even someone like SuperMan in less than a month. A normal human in less than an hour. But for me, it would take a full year of constant dual-wielding before I am permanently damaged. Luckily, I’m only going to wear the ring until I can give it to the True Cat,” she explained, tucking the ring back under her blouse. Bruce took that moment to speak up again. 

“If you aren’t parasitic, then what happened to Adrien?” He asked, his glare never lessening on the Kwami. Jon had told him what his x-ray vision had seen. Adrien’s body showed signs of internal deterioration. Minor internal bleeding, luckily already healed on its own according to Jon, weakened organ linings, even a slight brittleness to Adrien’s skeletal structure. Muscle thinning. It was healing as Jon kept an eye on the newly retired Chat Noir, but still posed a very serious concern. 

Plagg acknowledged that concern when he suddenly stopped to hover in place, his green eyes darkening as he got serious. 

“The Miraculous requires balance,” he repeated, shifting his toxic gaze to slowly meet each and every set of Bat-eyes. “When Adrien was chosen to wield my ring, he was the person in Paris with the single highest level of compatibility with me aside from Marinette herself. It was the primary reason he was chosen at all. We needed a strong Ladybug to be able to reverse the damage Hawkmoth caused, and only Marinette fit the bill. If anybody else had been chosen to be the Cat long term, the miraculous’ strive to maintain balance would have killed them. Unfortunately, that isn’t something we can control. I can’t reverse my own destruction, and Tikki interfering would only make the imbalance worse.”

Tikki nodded solemnly. “Since we are the strongest Kwami, using our power requires a certain amount of spiritual strength and compatibility. At least in the long term, anybody can use either of our powers a maximum of three times without any side effects. But over time, the Miraculous with the less compatible user will turn it’s own energies back on that user in an attempt to balance itself. Since Marinette can use my magic to a greater extent than Adrien, the ring instinctively turned the excess chaos magic, the gap between their abilities that he couldn’t fulfill, on his own body and mind.” 

“It was barely noticeable at first,” Marinette’s voice was barely above a whisper, and her hands were clenched together so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her jaw was clenched. “He’s very close to a True Cat, so it wasn’t so bad. It weakened his more chaotic nature outside of his transformation, making him meeker and his confidence and sense of justice lessen. In transformation, it did the opposite and fueled his chaotic personality and made him more single minded and impulsive. Annoying and sometimes made battle harder, but it was manageable. His health was never at risk.” 

“But it was,” Jason pointed out, his frown deep and eyes laser focused on Marinette. “We got a medical read on him. Adrien’s body has been taking a magical beating. For a while.” 

“No,” Tikki shook her head. “All that damage is recent, actually. Plagg and I felt the moment that the Ring’s magical funnel, for lack of a better explanation, ceased functioning properly. It started pumping Adrien with much more Destruction energy than his body could handle, which we have only seen happen twice before.” 

“It’s like an eject button,” Plagg agreed. “When a Miraculous senses somebody nearby who is able to instantly bring complete balance between it and it’s partner Miraculous, it tries everything to get it’s current holder to reject it so it can land in the hands of the person it truly belongs to.” 

Tim’s face went pale. “The GothCorp incident,” he blurted out, forcing all heads to whip over to him. He didn’t seem to care, continuing on with his realization. “Plagg and Tikki are the first soulmates. The GothCorp incident was the first time that Damian and Adrien were in close proximity to one another. Before that was the first day you were in Gotham, but Damian stayed far from the rest of your class and Adrien was at the far back of the group.” 

“I don’t even want to know how you know those specifics, Drake,” Damian interrupted blandly. He was ignored. Tim continued;

“If True Cats and True Ladybugs are like Plagg and Tikki’s children, then it only makes sense for them to be soulmates. There’s always a True Cat if there’s a True Ladybug, right?” the Kwami barely had time to nod before Tim looked over at Damian with wide eyes. “Adrien only started declining after GothCorp. Because you, the True Cat, was close enough to the ring for it to sense you.”

Marinette groaned, rubbing her forehead. “Yeah, but I was gonna wait to  _ tell him that  _ until a few days from now, when we settled into knowing each other a bit better,” she groused pointedly, narrowing her eyes as Tim. The young CEO gulped. 

Damian blinked, looking over at his newly-titled Girlfriend. His eyebrows slightly drew down. 

“I’m not entirely surprised,” he admitted slowly. Marinette’s forget-me-not eyes turned to meet his. “And I am not like my father when it comes to the arcane. Magic actually interests me, though it often complicates things to a ridiculous degree. If holding onto the ring is burdensome on you—“

“Not yet,” Marinette interrupted, holding up a hand. “It won’t hurt me anytime soon, and regardless of our connection I don’t want to give you the ring yet. No offense, but I am extremely protective of the Miraculous. Plagg goes wherever the ring does, and I already have to deal with two Kwami being abused in Paris. I will not risk Plagg being hurt by handing off the ring right away, even to you,” she admitted bluntly. 

The unusual steel in her eyes and authority in her voice was somewhat undermined by Plagg’s melodramatic coo of “aww you dooooo caaaarrreeeee~!” and his proceeding fly-tackle to hug Marinette’s face in the most obnoxious way possible. 

“Mmnfvdg—Plagg!” She peeled him off after a brief struggle, puffing her cheeks and glaring at the small god as she held him by his scruff like a kitten. “Be serious for a second!” 

“Pfff, no waaaay. I was already serious for, like, two  _ hundred _ seconds. That’s enough for one human lifetime, right?” 

“Plagg,” Marinette’s glare intensified. Plagg was unaffected. He just phased through her hand. 

“I smell cheese! Come here, my love!” He purred, literally purred, as he flew off and through the ceiling to chase the scent of his one true (inanimate) love. Marinette groaned in despair. 

“I am so sorry Damian, for whenever I do give you the ring in the future,” she patted his shoulder consolingly. “He never gets more tolerable.” 

“Fantastic,” Damian deadpanned, sighing. 

“For the record,” Barbara spoke up, grinning. “I love that for you.” 

“I will throw a batarang at your head, Gordon, see if I don’t.” 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author once again info-dumps you, but somehow in less words? Drama.

“Okay,” Bruce took control of the conversation again after a few moments of levity. “Now that we have a basic understanding of your abilities and where they come from, can you give a better rundown about what has been going on in Paris?” He asked, focused solely on Marinette. “From what Dick has told us, you are the only person with all the pieces to the puzzle.” 

Marinette breathed out through her nose. This was finally encroaching on topics that she had not spoken to Damian about yet. She decided to start with the basics. 

“As we said before, each Miraculous represents an abstract concept and they each get their power from a corresponding Kwami. Tikki and Plagg, being the oldest, are the most powerful. Destruction and creation. But there are levels underneath them. The second ring of Miraculous contains the Bee comb, which houses the Miraculous of subjugation.” 

“The one that Queen Bee uses,” Dick guessed. Marinette nodded. 

“Exactly. There is also the Turtle, the Miraculous of protection. The Fox, Miraculous of illusion. And then there are the Butterfly, miraculous of Transmission, and the Peacock. Miraculous of emotion,” Marinette sighed. “Miraculous and their Kwami are never supposed to be used for evil, it goes against the reason they were made. But at the end of the day—“ she paused for a second to consider her phrasing. “Think of it like a genie in a bottle. The Kwami have to obey the orders of their wielder, they are physically incapable of refusing direct orders from whoever uses their miraculous. If the user is a bad egg,” Marinette made a hand gesture as if to indicate their entire current situation. 

“So there is nothing the captive Kwami can do?” Jason asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Even though they are gods, they’re trapped?” 

“Yes,” Marinette conformed. “That’s the problem. The Kwami, as gods, are not actually supposed to be corporeal. Their natural forms are mostly incapable of interacting with the physical world, and by extension, living beings,” Marinette told them. “Since they represent abstract concepts, they are only supposed to be able to influence those concepts on a scale large enough that most mortal beings are incapable of comprehending what’s happening. Like the destruction of a planet over the course of millennia, or the birth of a new species over time. But, ten thousand years ago, an ancient Chinese sorcerer was able to contact them when he astral projected himself. The Kwami were lonely, and wanted to be able to interact with us. With any beings other than, well, other Kwami. So the sorcerer created the Miraculous, and they allowed him to bind their power to the jewelry in order to be able to assume a physical form and have the opportunity to directly impact humankind,” she summed up their history lesson. “But the sorcerer was cautious. He bound the Kwami’s powers to the will of their user when he bound them to the miraculous, making it impossible for them to break free or use their powers of their own volition without permission.” 

“Sounds like a crappy deal,” Jason groused. Tikki chuckled. 

“Oh, it isn’t all bad,” she argued gently. “We enjoy being a part of the lives of humans. You are all very interesting beings, and a few thousand years bound to a jewel is nothing in comparison to the amount of time we’ve existed,” she reminded them. “Eventually the Miraculous will break down, as all things do, and we will be free and incorporeal again. Until then, we quite enjoy seeing the world this closely.” 

“But the point is,” Bruce got the conversation back on track. “That Hawkmoth isn’t just holding an entire city captive. He and his partner are abusing the powers and will of two conscious, intelligent creatures and using their powers for something they never agreed to,” he pointed out grimly. Marinette nodded, equally serious. 

“Not only that, but Hawkmoth is putting his sidekick, Mayura, in direct danger,” she added, leaning forward. “We, Chat Noir and I, never told the rest of the team about this. We never knew how they would react, and the last thing we needed was them flinching or hesitating in the middle of a battle. But the Peacock Miraculous… it’s damaged,” Marinette’s lips thinned as Damian tensed behind her. She had explained how the miraculous worked to him a little more thoroughly when they had been asleep, so it wasn’t hard for him to get a feel for how bad this news was. Marinette continued before he could speak up, however. “A damaged Miraculous is very hard to achieve in the first place. I can tell you with certainty that not even Superman’s full strength can break one. The Miraculous are magic, and again they are bound to their Kwami. So, instead of being affected by the physical world, the status of a Miraculous is directly related to the mental state of the Kwami it is bound to. The only other way for the miraculous to break is through time— another several dozen millenia, most likely,” Marinette took a deep breath. “Which means that sometime in the past fifty years, maximum, Duusu, the Kwami of Emotion and thus the most easily damaged Miraculous, suffered so severe an emotional shock that it partially broke it’s broach.” 

“If the Ring sensing it’s true user is enough to nearly kill Adrien,” Tim interrupted the heavy silence that had fallen for a moment, “what does an actually damaged one do?” 

“It’s a death sentence,” Marinette admitted, voice dark with carefully controlled anger. “Each Miraculous has a different side effect. A different method of death, if you will, for when things go horribly wrong. Deterioration of the body, for Plagg. Cancer and other developmental issues for Tikki. With Duusu, it’s the lungs. Since the Broach is responsible for properly funneling the Kwami’s power so it doesn’t overwhelm the user, a broken broach that is still being used will slowly deteriorate the lungs and breathing ability. At first it will be a cough, as if they only have a cold. Then it will seem like asthma, only to get worse. And worse. But with no disease detectable by any technology, they just continue to wither away until the lungs simply fail completely,” Marinette tapped her fingers restlessly on the tabletop. “The Guardian can fix broken Miraculous, which is one reason that finding out Hawkmoth and Mayura’s identities is very time sensitive right now. With her massive decrease in appearances, and her increasingly short stamina, I don’t think she’ll last the year. If that long.” 

“That reminds me!” Jason slammed his hands on the table, leaning forward. “This mysterious Guardian guy. What’s his name and where does he live?” 

Marinette blinked, completely caught off guard by the sudden energy, and the question itself. It took her a visible moment to reboot and readjust her line of thinking so she could properly answer him. Even then, all that came out was;

“What? Why?”

“Marinette,” Jason’s voice got low, he was taking whatever this new topic was with just as much seriousness as the issue with the stolen Miraculous and Mayura. “How old were you when he chose you to be Ladybug?” 

Marinette had to lean to the side to give Damian an incredulous look, but her boyfriend looked just as invested in her answer as Jason was. No help there, then. She ran a hand over her forehead to try and relieve her minor situational whiplash. “Uh, thirteen. Why?”

“And did you have any training? Any preparation at all?” 

“Mon dieu, Jason!” Marinette threw her hands up in exasperation, desperately looking around the table to see if anyone would help her out. Nobody said a word, just waiting for her to reply. After a few moments, when she realized none of them would back off or save her, she growled a little. “No! Okay? No warning, and I only had my background in gymnastics. Adrien was the same, but his father had forced him to take martial arts alongside fencing from a young age, so he was a little better off with the combat aspect,” she admitted in one long, frustrated breath. “Now can you tell me why, in the fucking world, this matters more than Mayura being on borrowed time?” 

“I wanna talk to him,” he admitted, sitting back down and throwing his legs up onto the table as he leaned back, casually bringing out a gun to start cleaning. “Casual-like. The hero life isn’t meant for a kid, Marinette. And yeah, you’ve done a great job and you’re obviously very competent— but you shouldn’t have to be. You never should’a been forced into this.” 

“But you—”

“None of us gave Bruce a choice, technically,” Dick interrupted, rubbing the back of his neck. “We all basically gave him the ultimatum of, ‘take us with you or we’ll go anyway,’ and only one of those choices had a chance of us getting through it okay. Even then, he made sure to train us both before and during our debut as Robin, and constantly kept us supervised. Most of the shit we ended up in was us rushing into danger like the stupid kids we were.” 

“We all knew at least partially what we were getting into,” Tim added. “We had seen enough crime and death to be a little disillusioned. You didn’t even have that.” 

“Even me,” Jason jabbed a thumb at himself. “Do I blame Bruce for not being firm enough as a parent to keep us from putting our lives in danger? Sure. Do I think he has a bad habit of using kids like soldiers after a while? Fuckin’ course I do. But the initial choice was us, our fault. My death? Even that, I know that one was on me at least partially. Damian’s a special case, all the blame for that is on his mom’s side of the family. You? Kid, this Guardian shithole just took all his responsibilities and, even knowing how important and dangerous and painful this whole fight would be, he still decided to drop all of that on two kids without even a courtesy notice.” 

“We were the most compatible in Paris,” she tried to argue weakly, but even Marinette had to admit that they made a terrifyingly good case. They had been turned into heroes even sooner than her, done it longer and seen more shit— or different shit, at the least. If all of them, an entire room of vigilantes, agreed that it was unfair and cruel, what Fu had done… She couldn’t really disagree. 

“That doesn’t make it right. He could have found a solution until you were older.”

In reality, they were just giving voice to the misgivings she constantly pushed down and into a tiny, locked corner of her mind. Because she never did ask for this, after all. Marinette had never wanted to be a hero, never wanted to have this responsibility or live this life. Now that she was so far into it though, she wouldn’t give it up for the world. It had ingrained itself into her, become as inseparable as her own flesh. But that didn’t mean that the beginning of all this was right, that it had been okay. That anything about the situation was okay. 

But she couldn’t admit that out loud yet. Admitting it would make it real, and that might break her. She couldn’t risk that yet, not with Hawkmoth still reigning over Paris. No, Marinette would swallow the injustice for a while longer. Swallow her anger and her pain at her lost innocence, just a little longer. 

Once the war was over, she would cry. Properly. But not yet. 

So, instead of caving in to the overwhelming urge to break and agree and mourn, she leaned back a bit and smirked. She opened her arms in a wide gesture. 

“Go ahead then. Talk to me.”

The room froze. She could feel Damian start to almost vibrate behind her, though she couldn’t tell if it was out of rage or shock, or maybe even shock-induced amusement. Nobody moved for a long moment, until Jason violently pushed away from the table with a yell and tossed his chair across the room. 

“FUCK!”

Marinette watched in slightly concerned amusement as Jason continued to rampage, throwing things and getting progressively deeper into the Cave and away from any easily-damaged humans. 

“Marinette.” Bruce’s voice was clipped, urgent, and promised violence to whoever angered him. Marinette felt safe, so she figured the object of his ire was Fu. 

That was fair. 

Her silent commentary was interrupted as Bruce continued; “How long ago did you become Guardian?” 

“Ah, right before this trip actually,” she admitted. Apparently that was at least a little relieving, because Dick and Tim let out twin sighs of partial relief and Damian’s suffocating hug from behind her loosened slightly. “About two weeks before the trip. The previous Guardian was getting really old, which was part of the reason he was so adamant about picking the most compatible users regardless of age. He wanted the best possible chance at reclaiming the Miraculous before he died, and technically we were his best choice,” she shrugged. “Being the Grand Guardian of the Miraculous binds that person to all of the Kwami, along with the box that protects and holds the Miraculous that aren’t in use. As a result it drastically increases the Guardian’s lifespan, but even so he is almost two hundred years old. Given the fact that he was never a True holder of any of the Miraculous, that’s significant. But the caveat is that he had to give up all of his knowledge about the Miraculous and transfer it to me when he transferred Guardianship, so he no longer remembers anything. As far as he knows, he is just an old man who teaches me Mandarin on the weekends and has a hobby creating authentic chinese pottery. If that pottery happens to be subconsciously carved with ancient chinese spells to prevent Akumas from escaping if they’re caught inside one,” Marinette shrugged casually. “He doesn’t have to know.” 

“So let me get this straight,” Bruce let out a long, very frustrated breath before meeting her eyes again and continuing. “You are currently the most important person regarding the Hawkmoth case, as not only the hero with the powers necessary to preventing any lasting harm to the entirety of Paris, but also because you hold the most knowledge of the Miraculous history, the extent of their abilities, and any other related secrets of anyone currently alive. Right?” 

Marinette rubbed the back of her head, a little sheepish now that all of that was laid bare and she could see how bad it sounded. “Uh… Yeah, essentially.” 

Bruce nodded. 

“And you are currently being bullied by a majority of your class, neglected by your teacher, and overall under severe pressure to keep your emotions under control despite being emotionally preyed on. Everyone in your class apart from Adrien and yourself has been compromised, and your school is a constant Hawkmoth target. Is that right?” 

Marinette flinched very noticeably at that, and let out a nervous little laugh. 

“That… sums it up pretty well…” 

“Hawkmoth is targeting you, isn’t he?” Tim added, a deep frown creating mile-long wrinkles on his forehead and the corners of his mouth. “Why else would he keep attacking a school that hasn’t produced the game-changing Akuma he needs? Unless he thinks the key to his victory is one of the only two people there who hasn’t fallen victim to him yet.” 

“Uhhhhh,” Marinette wouldn’t look anyone in the eye anymore, which was honestly answer enough. “We might… Possibly… Have confirmation that he thinks my talent with repressing my emotions would create a world-level catastrophic Akuma,” she reluctantly admitted. “And that he… might, maybe, be determined to emotionally break me until he can prove himself right and use my Akuma form to take down Ladybug and the others.” 

Dick’s head slammed into the table as he let out a groan of utter despair. Or maybe that was the telltale sign of an oncoming migraine. 

Or both. Probably both. 

“But I’m fine!” she tried to soothe them uselessly, waving her hands in the air in futile attempt to get them to focus on and believe what she had to say. “Honest!” 

“I doubt that,” The new voice made everyone’s head jerk over to the cave’s exit, where two figures floated in from the direction of the bat vehicles. Marinette mentally screamed. This was the last thing she needed. But a second later, when her eyes further adjusted to exactly who she was seeing in front of her, she mentally screamed again. This time in frustration over those two’s complete idiocy. She threw up her hands with a growl of anger. 

“No mask? Are you serious?!” She waved her hands in newfound fluster at them both. “Jon! A baseball cap and a set of glasses doesn’t hide your identity from people who know you! Oh Kawmi, how the hell have they gone this long without being found out?” Marinette asked that last part to the bats around her, who all seemed to share her pain and just shrugged. They clearly were just as exasperated as she was. 

“Probably a combination of body acting and the public’s denial,” Barbara suggested rationally. Marinette gave her a dirty look for being Devil’s advocate. 

“Kent, Superman,” Damian greeted coldly, which was honestly probably just a side effect of the emotional turmoil he had just been forced to go through. Marinette internally winced; she really had dumped a lot on him in a short amount of time. She silently promised to make it up to him later. “What are you doing here?” 

“Jon informed me that he saw something a bit concerning in your new friend,” Superman admitted, the two kryptonians finally getting close enough that they touched ground and walked the remaining few feet to the debriefing table. “But he doesn’t trust his anatomy knowledge yet, so he asked me to double check that he wasn’t seeing something wrong or overreacting.” 

It was Marinette’s turn to look confused, and she just looked to Damian for explanation. Which he gave simply. 

“Jon and Superman have x-ray vision.” 

Marinette’s face instantly paled a good three shades. 

“So,” Superman crossed his arms as he gave her a quick once-over and frowned. Jason chose that time to get back within earshot, right in time to hear the man of steel ask; “Why do you have the remnants of at least a hundred lethal injuries to your skeletal structure? That’s not counting the signs of deep-tissue laceration that probably isn’t visible to the naked eye, or anything that wouldn’t leave signs behind.” 

Jason turned on his heel and the sound of something large being broken resonated through the batcave. Marinette reached for her purse, but Damian stopped her with his eyes narrowed. 

“Nope. You’re not teleporting away this time. What are they talking about?” 

Marinette chuckled nervously before making a break for it. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh. It happened?

Predictably, an untransformed Marinette wasn’t exactly a match for a room full of experienced vigilantes and two superhuman heroes with super speed. But when tasked with the mission of avoiding Feelings, Marinette would pull no punches. If the bright light of her transformation bought her two precious seconds of surprise and blindness from her would-be captors, all the better. 

At the end of those two seconds, she was firmly stuck to the ceiling of the cave and Jon was doing his best to pry her off without using too much of his strength and hurting her. He wasn’t having much luck (and if Marinette conveniently didn’t tell him that her suit was near indestructible and there was no way he could hurt her accidentally? Well. Call it good planning). 

“Why?” Tim asked, just staring straight up at the two of them with a very exasperated look on his face. “Part of me is intrigued that you apparently gain Ladybug-like abilities, like being able to walk on and stick to walls and ceilings. But most of me is just tired.” 

Jason had arrived back, again, and snorted at the weird sight of the baby-boy scout trying to peel Marinette from the cave rocks. Even with everything they’ve all been through, it was a rather odd situation. But the amusement only served to curb his remaining violence, not stop him from wanting answers. 

“You know,” Jason remarked, crossing his arms. “We need to get an accurate image of how badly things have escalated in Paris, as well as what HawkMoth is willing and able to do for his goals, if you want us to help you,” he pointed out reasonably. Marinette just paused from where she had just ceiling-crawled away from Jon in minor irritation, and glared down at Jason. 

“You’re not gonna trick me with that overly-calm negotiation,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him. “I’m not saying a word!” 

“Ah, SuperMan. I brought you some tea,” Alfred re-entered the room, carrying a tray laden with a few goodies, including the tea he mentioned. The large superhero took the cup with a sigh and a grateful, lopsided smile. Alfred just grinned knowingly. “I had a feeling you would need something calming, your timing isn’t very convenient. Master Bruce? Would you take pity on your old friend and actually explain the current situation to him? It seems keeping it a secret is no longer a viable option.” 

Bruce sighed, suddenly wishing that Ibuprofen was strong enough to ward off the headaches that came with ridiculous situations like the ones only teenagers could conjure up. Or children in general, Dick never grew out of his penchant for the ridiculous now that Bruce thought about it. Maybe talking to a fellow father for a second would help; misery loves company, and barely two minutes into meeting Marinette and Clark already looked plenty miserable with confusion. 

“Come on,” Bruce took the second cup of tea that Alfred offered, and jerked his head to the side. With that, he and his old friend slightly separated from the group of kids, but kept an eye on the situation even as the Super Boyscout was briefed as quickly as possible on what insanity he had just walked into. 

Meanwhile, Marinette had taken to the offensive. And that meant she started to childishly bat away Jon’s hands every time he tried to grab her. 

“Oh come on,” he groaned, pouting. “I am very confused, and eavesdropping on my dad isn’t answering all my questions,” he tried to grab her shoulders again, but she just skittered away as if she was an actual bug. “I’m just worried about those injuries!” 

“Too bad!” She shot back, rising up so she was standing upside-down on the cave ceiling. She crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m fine. Everything is peachy. The injuries are not important at all. Leave me alone!”

“I call bullshit!” Jason yelled below her. And that was when a zzzzzip cut through the air, and Marinette’s face paled. 

The business end of a grappling hook was now firmly embedded in the ceiling only a foot away from her, and she knew what that meant. 

“Ah, Nope, not today!” She shrieked, but sadly her enhanced speed was no match for Jon. The young hero flew behind her, clamping his hands on her shoulders to keep her in place. She fought and wriggled, trying to get away, but once again her strength wasn’t as enhanced as a Kryptonian’s. 

The line attached to the grappling hook reeled in, soon bringing Damian right up to it. And Marinette. He was silent for a second, taking the time to flip himself upside down and stick the specially-modified boots he had changed into to the rock ceiling. Firmly attached and in no fear of falling, he calmly retracted the grappling hook and attached it onto the utility belt that he now had on. Then, now standing upside-down with Marinette and able to stare her in the eye, Damian crossed his arms. 

“You never mentioned dying.” 

Those four words were damning, as he and Marinette had spent long hours in their dreamscape planning their surprise to his family and discussing Ladybug and the HawkMoth situation. 

Damian had opened up to her about his own death, even if he had not gone into specifics. But she had said nothing about her’s. About any of them, since Superman’s analysis meant there had to have been more than only one death. And she hadn’t said a word. 

Damian was… conflicted. On one hand, he understood her side. Dying even once was a horrible experience, and not one that Damian liked revisiting even in the privacy of his own mind. And with the added necessity of not losing control over her emotions? He could completely empathize with her not wanting to talk about it. It wasn’t like they had actually known each other very long, after all. Two weeks wasn’t long enough to establish complete trust even in a Bonded couple. And it wasn’t like he had come clean about all of his own secrets, either.

But on the other hand, his emotions were raging beyond his rationality. Here was the girl, the singular person, who the Universe has chosen specifically for him. To be his balance, the light to his darkness. And HawkMoth, for who else could possibly be at fault for this? HawkMoth had hurt her. Not in the usual battlefield, occupational-hazard way that he had already come to terms with since figuring out her identity. He knew to expect the occasional broken bone, gene-deep exhaustion, bruises, whatever. All of that he had prepared himself for as soon as he had suspected Marinette of being a hero. 

But, when he had told her about his death, she had asked questions. He didn’t answer them, not in any satisfying way, but her questions had told him something: she didn’t know about the Lazarus Pits. And yes, she had told him that the Ladybug Cure revived people, but he always assumed she had to be alive to cast it. 

So he didn’t prepare himself for this. Protecting her? Yes. He was prepared for that. Facing a future situation where her life was on the line? Unfortunately an occupational hazard for both of them, which he had also prepared for. 

But not having missed the opportunity to save her in the first place. Not having missed one, let alone multiple, deaths on her part. He wasn’t prepared for the fact that she had suffered so thoroughly, clearly enough to be labeled torture, and he had been oblivious. Not even aware of her existence at the time of those events. 

And that pissed him off. He was lucid enough to know that the anger was mostly directed at HawkMoth, but some of it was definitely geared towards Marinette as well. How could she not even mention it to him, despite him coming partially clean about his own death? He wouldn’t have made her go into detail. He could have just accepted the fact, had time to process it, in the safety and privacy of their dream world. 

But instead he found out from an outside source, in front of his family. Not from her, not in any meaningful setting. It was revealed, like some shameful secret of hers, and he hated that. Did she not trust him even with the bare minimum? She could have just said, “me too,” or “I know,” and he would have caught on. Understood. Adapted. But instead she hid it, kept it secret, didn’t trust him enough to— to what? Understand? Not overreact? 

Damian’s jaw clenched, but he was able to tear himself out of his thoughts long enough to observe Marinette. Or, more accurately, her body language. 

Her shoulders had slumped, and she was wincing still from his words. He felt a little of his anger drain away as he watched her fidget nervously with her hands. Nervous of him. Their bond had to have been sending her extremely strong warning vibrations too, because she kept flinching every few seconds. 

That wasn’t what he wanted. 

Slowly, Damian let out a sigh and ran a hand over his forehead. No, she wasn’t the person who deserved his rage. Not right now, not like this. He was still hurt, sure, and it would take a while to forgive her for withholding such an important detail, but he wouldn’t take his anger out on her. 

HawkMoth was still open though, and he’d have no problem unleashing Hell on that man when he got the chance. 

“Marinette,” he said instead of the rant he had originally been planning. “You could have told me.” 

She winced again, and finally Superboy let go of her and floated away to give them at least the illusion of privacy. 

“I know.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

Marinette fidgeted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I… I don’t know? I just… I don’t like thinking about it. I didn’t want it to feel like I was comparing our pain or anything.” 

Damian groaned at that, pinching the bridge of his nose. Of course. Of course that’s what she would think of first. 

He opened his mouth to start telling her how stupid that train of thought was, but a new voice interrupted him. 

“I’m gonna have to ask you to go easy on my boss, there, little man.” 

The room went still. Even Bruce and Superman stopped their conversation, everyone’s gazes whipping over to the newcomer that not even the Supers had noticed arrive. And, despite having triggered the defensive reflexes of all Bats present and having half a dozen weapons aimed at her, two of which were fully live guns, the newcomer didn’t look even the least bit phased. 

It was a redhead, that was one of the only things anyone could pin down about her normal appearance. Other than that, she was about average height with a lean, athletic build. And she was in a hero suit that was all baby blues and whites, with a clear rabbit theme if the ears on her head and the puffball on her neck were any indication. It was far from an intimidating or inspiring suit, to be certain, but for some reason the mere sight of her attire made everyone present vaguely nervous. The grin on her face as she casually leaned against the wall, twirling the baby blue umbrella she had with utmost relaxation, did not help the odd feeling they all had that she was dangerous. That she knew things she definitely shouldn’t know. 

“Bunnix!” Marinette yelled happily, letting go of her hold on the ceiling to flip and land on the floor nimbly. Not bothering to change out of her own transformation (who knew when the Supers would try to catch her again? She wasn’t taking that risk), she just trotted over to the other hero with a wide smile. “You didn’t have to come back here to bail me out, but Kwami am I glad you did!” 

Bunnix laughed easily, straightening in her casual stance to ruffle Marinette’s hair affectionately. “Hey, MiniBug. It’s always nice to see you. And actually, I wouldn’t be here if I  _ didn’t _ have to be. Unfortunately, your soulmate and his family have a tendency for disrupting the timeline just because they’re bad at interacting with other people. We’re working on that,” she waved a hand dismissively. “Me and Ladybug decided that it’s best if I come back here and help you explain before someone says something we all regret.” 

“Uh,” Tim spoke up, raising a hand as if he was waiting to be called on in a classroom. “Marinette is Ladybug, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t tell you to do anything. Didn’t you just refer to her and your boss, too?” poor Tim looked a little confused, but mostly like he was really hoping the conclusion he was coming to was wrong. He clearly had an idea as to what was going on, and was really hoping he was just sleep deprived and hallucinating.

“I was talking about Marinette from the future,” Bunnix confirmed his worst fears with an all-too-happy smile. “ _ My  _ Ladybug. I use the Rabbit, which is the Miraculous of Time. Mini-kitty, don’t you dare throw that dagger at me,” Bunnix whipped her head up to smirk at Robin, who was still standing on the cave ceiling aiming a dagger at her. “I’m a time traveler, not an enemy. Marinette recruits me as part of her team sometime in the future, but I can’t tell you when. That would be a spoiler,” she grinned as if she had just made a joke, and seemed to preen at the narrowed eyes it earned her from the Bats. “Ah, but I guess my identity isn’t that important to hide from you guys. Might make you feel more comfortable if I’m not in a superpowered suit, yeah?” 

“Gesture of goodwill?” Bruce asked, eyes narrowed. He was not at all happy about a stranger showing up in the Batcave out of the blue, seemingly already knowing all their identities, and acting like they knew every possible move they would make. It was the exact kind of situation that put his teeth on edge and made him want to punch something. 

Bunnix gave him a grin that was more teeth than amusement, and leaned her umbrella on one shoulder. “Sure, if that’s what helps you sleep at night Batsy,” she retorted easily. Jason snorted, and Bunnix’s grin softened a little. 

“Counterclockwise,” she whispered, a brief flash of blue light covering her figure before it drained away, leaving a semi-familiar figure before them. Jason straight up whistled. 

Bunnix, detransformed, was somehow even more intimidating yet comforting at the same time. Her red hair was spiked up in a playfully rough-looking manner, and she had two complete arm tattoos, of what looked like green snakes and pink flowers winding up both arms. She had four piercings in each ear, each sporting their own silver earring. Motorcycle goggles were perched on her head, and she overall looked like a twenty-four hour badass. 

“Kubdel,” Robin almost hissed, clicking his boots off and letting Superboy carry him to the ground. “Marinette’s best friend?” 

Alix clicked her tongue, winking and shooting him a finger-gun. “Got it in one, shorty! Man it’s weird seeing you this small again,” she laughed at her own joke, clearly thinking about a future none of them had seen yet. “But you can’t punish mini-me, she’s not Bunnix yet,” she teased, her smirk sharp and smug. “Not all of us become heroes at a traumatizing young age, you know.” 

“Thank fuck for that,” Jason grumbled in agreement, making Alix let loose another bark of laugher before she hooked her thumbs in the pockets of her shorts and got serious again. 

“But if my timing is right, and it always is, you guys were wondering about Minibug’s deaths, right?” That served to kill the mood again. Everyone focused their attention firmly on adult-Alix. “Truth be told, most of them happened in the first year and a half that Marinette was Ladybug. There were exactly three after that, but those involved extenuating circumstances. But, there is one major factor behind everything Marinette’s been through,” Alix held up one finger. “And it’s the bastard called Balance.” 

Barbara leaned forward, eyebrow cocked. “You mean the thing that the Miraculous rely on? The whole reason I’m about to get a lifetime’s worth of blackmail on Robin as soon as Catwoman finds out about this whole mess?” 

“Balance doesn’t care about who it hurts, it just does whatever it takes to get where it wants to be. It’s not a human or any mortal being, and it doesn’t have the sentience or empathy of a Kwami. Balance might be necessary, but it’s a bitch too,” Alix told them all ruthlessly. “Especially when it comes to the true Cat and Bug. The longer the two of you were to go without activating your soul bond, the worse your lives would get, until one of you died. But then, no, Balance can’t have one True creation or destruction soul alive by themselves, so it lines things up so you can be brought back. Or it gets impatient, and destroys everything.” 

When Alix didn’t immediately elaborate, Dick made a show of cleaning one ear with his pinkie. “I’m sorry, what was that last part? I couldn’t have heard you right.” 

Alix sighed, taking out a phone. It had a bunny-themed case, so it was a good guess that it was related to her Miraculous. “Look. Exhibit A;” she swiped her phone screen, and a picture came up on the Batcomputer. Everyone quickly put aside their questions as to How The Hell she did that when the subject of the photo sank in. 

It was a picture of a battleground. The moon in the sky was completely obliterated, just chunks of rock floating desolately in a dark sea of blue. Ladybug, clearly their own slightly younger Marinette, stood facing off against an all-white version of Chat Noir. 

Behind the small Ladybug was a slightly older one, clearly dead and stone-like, grey as ash, on the ground. HawkMoth lay, just as dead, behind her. 

“This is a timeline that me and Minibug erased. In it, Marinette decided to give up on her soulbond, thinking she did not have one. Instead she started dating Adrien, but the Universe didn’t like that. Things started going wrong one by one, until Adrien unlocked his own Bond and was consumed with internal conflict. He didn’t want to hurt Marinette, but he couldn’t turn his back on his bond either. After one last awful discovery on Adrien’s part, HawkMoth was able to Akumatized him while he was transformed as Chat Noir.” 

Marinette was tellingly silent, fists clenched as she stared at the ground. 

“The newly Akumatized Chat Blanc single handedly created an apocalypse, first by killing HawkMoth so that he could not take back the Akuma, and then…” she panned over, to where very familiar capes and other identifying pieces of clothing were laying in a large pile of dust behind Ladybug, previously out of view of the picture. “With one touch, he obliterated every hero that tried to stop him. HawkMoth and Ladybug’s bodies were only intact because of their Miraculous. Everyone else turned into nothing but ash.” 

“I…” Marinette spoke up, swallowing thickly before continuing. “I was able to deakumatize him, and Bunnix and I made sure that that timeline never happened. We erased it from existence…” Marinette closed her eyes tightly. “But since we were there, we can never forget what happened. The entire scene is stuck with us forever.” 

“That is just one scenario,” Alix took the picture off the screen. “There were others, other apocalyptic events, that I had to prevent from happening. That Marinette lived through. I am telling you this so that you might understand, Marinette is extremely important and she has been through a lot. If she does not want to share her trauma with you, she is not obligated to. She is used to burying all her problems so that she does not put Paris or the rest of the world at risk. You must take that into consideration. Now that she has activated her Bond with Damian, the worst scenarios are mostly behind us. Balance is satiated, for the time being. I advise that you take advantage of this downtime while you can. Slow down and let things progress naturally, instead of trying to solve every problem today. Instead of trying to learn everything there is to learn in one day,” she swept her blue eyes over everyone in the room. “Relax for now. The time for fighting and interrogation will come soon enough, I assure you, but it won’t be against Marinette.” 

“I guess future-me told you to share the Chat Blanc story?” Marinette asked, making Alix grimace and ruffle her hair again. 

“Yeah, minibug. Boss Lady said it would be the least traumatizing example I could give that carried the amount of weight we needed. You good?” 

Marinette nodded a little too quickly. “I’m fine.” She smiled up at Alix. “Thanks for smoothing things over. I… don’t think I would have been able to explain everything very well.” 

“You shouldn’t have to explain at all,” Alix put a supportive hand on Marinette’s shoulder before looking over to match gazes with first Damian, then Jason. “You two, of all people, should know better than try to make Marinette speak about her deaths when she clearly doesn’t want to. These things take time.” 

Jason felt oddly chastised, and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. Seeing that, Alix nodded in satisfaction. 

“Good. Well then, I’ll be off. Fluff, Clockwise!” As soon as her transformation was on, Bunnix called up her portal and got ready to leave. That was when, for some unknown reason, Jason yelled out; 

“Call me!” 

Bunnix froze, then grinned back at him almost ferally. “You gotta wait at least another two years, handsome. Then maybe I can call you all I want~” with one last win, she jumped through her portal and left a dumbfounded Jason behind. 

“You do realize she’s at least five years older than Alix is in our timeline right now, right?” Marinette asked, tilting her head at Jason’s very obvious smitten expression. He waved her off distractedly. 

“Yeah, I’m not interested in a kid anyway. Can I travel through time?” 

“Absolutely not,” Tim instantly denied, eyes narrowed. “That would be a disaster.” 

Jason sighed, leaning back in his chair still a little dazed. “That gives me somewhere between two and five years to wait, then. That’s not so bad.” 

Marinette walked over to Damian, gently elbowing him. “If he and Alix end up being soulmates,” she whispered to him. “You can move in with me.” 

“... thank you.” 

**Author's Note:**

> This story now has a tumblr! 
> 
> Soulmate-game.tumblr.com
> 
> So come yell at me there and get exclusive tumblr-only drabbles and stories. ;3


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